Teachers Lounge
by irislim
Summary: Post-series, no-movie AU. Veronica is a dedicated career woman who reluctantly agrees to sub for a local teacher on maternity leave. The resulting run-ins with former friends' kids make her think twice about her life. And that charming English teacher? They used to be much more than friends, a long time ago. An unapologetic excuse to put grown-up LoVe in a high school setting.
1. Intro to Journalism

"Seriously, Wallace?"

He shrugs at her indignant response with apparent nonchalance, turning his shoulders back towards his blood-sputtered video game interface. His fingers fly rapidly over the controls. "What? You're the one who says you've got nothing to do."

"I never said that!" She sends a pillow directly towards his shaved head. He ducks it.

"Well, sorry if 'I _need_ to get out of that house' was interpreted otherwise over here."

She flops back against the mattress, straight hair in a messy spread. With Wallace's apartment being more man cave than home, guest seating didn't seem to have been a decoration priority. "Well, I did, okay?"

"Okay."

 _Ugh, men_.

"But it doesn't mean I have to go _teach_."

"Careful with that tone, young lady." His eyes don't leave the screen. "That's my career we're talking about."

She sighs and pulls back up with adolescent ease. Petiteness has its perks. "I'm not you, baby brother. Driving the fear of God into the hearts of gangly teenagers isn't exactly my cup of tea."

"Yeah, sure. And you call me that one more time, you're never hanging out here again."

"Like I want to."

"Like you have anywhere else."

"I can go to Mac's."

"Until she starts making out with her fiance."

She sighs in defeat and resettles on the carpet next to Wallace. Adjusting to just how much everyone else has moved on has been - challenging. But of course, it's her fault for expecting life in Neptune to be remotely the same way she left it before Quantico.

The step-siblings sit in relative silence until Wallace's last game life proves brutally short.

"Seriously, Veronica. It won't be that bad." He tosses the controls to the side.

"Says the 35-year-old bachelor playing a video game on a console that's more expensive than a couch."

"For the record, I got this beauty for Drey."

"Ah, yes, brother of the year."

"Jealous?"

"Very," she snarls sarcastically. "I lost my Daddy to Almira. You gonna make me lose my brother too?"

"Dramatic much? _Our_ dad has plenty of love to share. A new baby girl isn't gonna make you any less his daughter."

" _Our_ dad, huh? You seriously call him that?"

Wallace shrugs. "It's not like my own father left me anything. I mean - other than Drey, of course."

She nods acquiescently. "What's his last name again?"

"My dad?"

"No - well, yes. I mean Drey."

Now Wallace laughs. "Would it surprise you if I said 'Fennel'?"

Her eyebrow lifts. "He took your name?"

"Yup. Told me he needed a fresh start after coming over from Chicago. Couldn't blame the kid for having nobody else. It's not like he and Mom or Darrell share any blood."

She nods again. Knowing about Wallace moving out to live with his half-brother was one thing; seeing it, entirely another. "So are you, like, a super conscientious and upright citizen plus super responsible brother now?"

"As far as Drey is concerned, yes."

"And Darrell?"

He laughs. "Sure, once that kid is done with law school, he's making more dough than I am."

"Because you're a - what's that word again? Teacher?"

"Seriously, just quit with the Princess Ariel vibes."

"Always knew you were a girl, Fennel."

"Watch your tongue, there's two that answers to the name now."

"Ah, ever the protective mother figure, shielding her young from the wiles of wayward women."

"I'm gonna ignore that mother hen jab just to point out how disturbing your sentence really sounded."

She rolls her eyes. "Seriously, chill. I'm not a cougar with access to your impressionable little bro."

"But the social service department might be a lot more strict on what a teacher says."

Her hands find the pillow and deliver it to his face again. "I am _not_ teaching at Neptune High!"

"Because teachers suck?"

"No, I didn't say that." She softens.

"Good, cuz I happen to like my job. But it's just journalism, Vee. We need a sub until Mrs. Hawkins comes back from maternity, and then you could skip along to your new high-powered NYC office and paycheck. Take it as a chance to give back to the community."

"Cuz working my butt off for twelve years in the public sector isn't really serving the people."

"Not like this." He grins.

She sighs and looks away.

 _Cuz there's nothing like bringing up a teenager to make Wallace level the argumentative playing field._

"Unless, of course, you'd rather help our mom change diapers, be my unpaid housekeeper, or help Mac plan her wedding," he pipes casually.

She shudders at each mental image. Why did she think a long break before she starts her next job was a good idea again?

 _I dunno, Veronica, maybe the "you need to take a vacation" prescription every single doctor hurled at you?_

"So how often would I have to show up?"

* * *

"Let's see - so how am I supposed to excuse you this time?" His fingers shuffle smoothly over the tablet screen until he reaches the last and latest page on the file. He props it towards the slouching young man before his desk. "Any pleas, Mr. Echolls?"

The boy, tall and lean, shifts his weight to the right. He looks up - and then down again.

"Orlando." The older man's voice is level, stern. "Anything?"

"No," he mumbles.

With the quirk of an eyebrow, the current judge of Orlando Echolls's fate slips back on his swivel chair. "Any reason why Seaver deserved that fist to the face?"

"No."

"Any reason why he is currently bleeding in the nurse's office while you - movie star offspring - is peeing his pants while interrupting my office hours?"

"I'm not peeing - "

"Yeah?"

Orlando grunts, blatantly upset, and plops down on a nearby chair. He locks his brows, obstinately looking away from his companion.

Said companion would have none of it. "You realize that I could be talking to your mom about this."

Orlando shuffles.

"And you know how she likes to get 'disappointed?'"

"No, you wouldn't - "

"I wouldn't." He leans back, cocky. "But TMZ would gobble it all up, wouldn't they?"

The young man licks his lips.

 _Gotcha._

"And if the academic woes of Aaron Echolls's grandson were to be plastered all over this week's issue" - he narrates with controlled nonchalance - "how're ya gonna get the girl?"

And blond hair barely skimming his brows, Orlando falls back in defeat. "Fine, whaddya want."

"That's not how you talk to your teacher."

"Look, I can't do this. Lo - "

"That's Mr. Echolls to you, Orlando."

"Fine!" He jumps out of the seat, hands flaring in frustration. "What _do_ you want, _Mr. Echolls_?"

Logan smiles, leans back, and crosses his ankles on the edge of the desk. "Simple: An A-worthy paper."

Orlando's face falls. "No, no, no. You know how much time that's gonna take?"

"Not more than you currently spend trying to get Sheila's attention."

 _Well, that shut him up._

"It's not like that," he offers two seconds too late.

"And why else would Seaver Vandergraff be fighting with you - unless it had to do with his sister?"

"It's just - well, Sheila herself never said no."

"Right, and Seaver has no right over her. Twin brother is not father."

"Exactly!"

Logan smiles at the sudden vulnerability in the young man's face. Empathy is a magical thing. "But that doesn't make your mom particularly enthusiastic about her, does it?"

Orlando sighs - drooping shoulders and all.

"Look, I know this is the oldest-sounding thing I could possibly say." Logan shifts back upright. "But I've been young before, you know? I've been in these hallways, heart burning over the girl of my dreams. I know what it's like."

The student looks up.

"And if it's meant to be, then neither your mom nor her brother are ever gonna be able to do anything about it."

"You think?" The raw hope sounds almost heartbreaking.

 _Young love._

"I think you can do better than moping around wasting your life, kid." He stands up and folds away the tablet. "You write me an A paper in class, and I don't tell your mom about the fight. _And_ I guarantee to persuade her about your being smitten with Sheila Vandergraff. Deal?"

"Fine." The harsh tone doesn't match the excitement in his eyes.

"Good. Now scurry off to class. I've got quizzes to grade. I'll see you at home - working on that paper."

* * *

The sharp ring of the school bell hits him hard. Surprised, he glances at his watch. Apparently, 90 reflection papers require more than 90 minutes to grade properly.

Logan sighs, but he smiles as soon as his eyes land on the photograph on his desk. Orlando has complained numerous times that no one keeps printed and framed photographs past 2020. But what could he say? He's a sentimental guy.

His smile deepens.

It had taken two days to convince him back then - two days of pleading and dodging paparazzi before Charlie finally let him through the door. But when he finally did, something changed.

 _Suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore._

A small knot forms in his throat. He contemplates the picture of him and his brother again. Maybe blood really is thicker than water.

Because in his mind, Logan knows that Charlie didn't have to let him in the house that day, Charlie didn't have to listen to his pleas for help at the sudden need to be a father figure, and Charlie didn't have to inspire him so much that he ended up becoming a teacher himself. But, he still did.

Did not have to but did - who knew real life could be this sappy?

The volume of slamming lockers and chattering teenagers suddenly increases. He looks up.

"Hey - uhm, Mr. Echolls." Orlando, for all his shaggy-haired glory, shifts at the formal name. The office door behind him swings haphazardly from the forceful entrance.

Logan smirks. "Yes?"

"You, uh, got to talk to Mom yet?"

He smiles, amused. "She says you could take whatever club you want - as long as you have one."

A sigh of thankfulness _almost_ escapes the teen. "Even if, uhm - "

"Even if Sheila is in the same club. Happy?"

And if it wasn't generally considered a crime for a high school boy to look happy, he probably would've smiled some.

"Yo, 'Lando, you coming?" The approaching friend greets with a slap on the tall boy's shoulder.

"Seaver," Logan greets, firmly.

"Oh, hey," Seaver throws his way before facing Orlando again.

Logan clears his throat.

"I mean - hi, Mr. Echolls." Seaver begrudges, this time with a proper look at the faculty member.

Logan nods. He pauses for a moment at the sight of the two friends clapping each other on the shoulder. "You guys okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah - totally cool," Orlando quickly explains.

 _Oh the short-lived rivalry of teenaged men._

"Headed to club - together?" Logan asks in a perfectly-level teacher voice.

"Yes, sir," Orlando responds. Seaver nods nonchalantly.

"Which one?"

"Journalism!" Seaver rediscovers his usual enthusiasm. He grabs Orlando - who has a confused look on his face - an inch closer. "We should totally go, man. They got this hot new teacher who's like a super detective or something. Heard she strutted into school in knee-high boots today. Like, so hot."

Logan can't help smirk at the boys. Fight yesterday over a girl, bond today over another - life's simple, isn't it?

"But journalism?"

"My sister's already signed up."

That's the deal-breaker, apparently, as the boys scurry out in record time.

And because he feels particularly sappy that day, Logan lets his eyes trail the two buddies walking away. Blood may be thicker than water; but there are certain friendships in life that make water flow almost like blood.

He glances at his Rolex - a recent Christmas gift from Duncan Kane - bought from perfectly legal money. Why was he ever surprised that the law forgave so quickly in the light of Duncan's inheritance money?

 _It wasn't the law that took a while._

He moves to re-organize the two-foot stack of reflection papers. But if Charlie forgave him, who was he to hold grudges against anyone else?

* * *

"Samantha Burkins."

"Here!"

"Ashley Clemmons."

"Here!"

"Ferdinand Mason."

"Here!"

She can't help smiling at the jittery teenagers, all hungry for their first assignment from the new teacher. Didn't she feel the exact same way the first day Miss Stafford came in to sub for Miss Dent? There's something about journalism teachers getting knocked up.

 _Don't jinx yourself, Veronica._

She looks back at the list.

"Valentina Navarro?"

"Here."

She looks up at the girl with luscious long hair and beautiful toffee skin, her hands folded neatly on her desk.

 _Could it be?_

"Did your dad go to school here?" She asks impulsively.

"He met my mom here." Valentina answers with a soft, demure smile. "He told me to switch to journalism because you're advising."

"Really?"

"He said you once saved Mom from a bad boyfriend who was threatening her."

 _Carmen?_

Veronica smiles. "I see."

"So you really do, like, save people?"

Veronica turns to the spunky blonde beside Valentina. The student is leaning forward, blue eyes sparkling. Now here's a journalist at heart.

"Smell a good story?"

"No, just - I think you're really, really cool." The girl grinned, excited.

Veronica laughs. "And your name is?"

"Sheila - Sheila Vandergraff."

"Vandergraff."

"Yup. On the bottom of your little list over there?"

"Ah." Now Veronica can't help grinning. She tapped 'present' on the last name on her list. "So - everyone accounted for?"

Heads nod - all except Sheila's. "Except for you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You just admitted that you used to help Val's mom, so you must be from Neptune. So what're you doing back here?"

Veronica leans back, amused. "I'm not allowed back?"

"But you're from the FBI, right?"

 _And how did that get out?_

"You're not?" A male voice questions.

Veronica turns to face the two boys at the door. "Excuse me?"

"Hello, ma'am." The shorter, dark-haired one saunters forward with an affected smile. "We're so sorry to be late."

"Uhm, okay." She glances down at her list. "I don't think I have your names here?"

"Seaver Vandergraff," the boy huffs confidently. He adds, "Sheila's sister. I mean - she's my sister."

Veronica smiles at the sniggers that are already sweeping the room. "Welcome to class, Seaver. Just drop by the records office later to confirm the transfer. And your friend?"

All eyes turn to the lanky blonde shifting at the entrance.

"Orlando," the boy mutters, stepping forward. "Orlando Echolls."

The world spins for five seconds.

 _The Echolls are still in town?_

"Welcome, Orlando. Have a seat."

Her mind races far too fast to notice where exactly everyone's seated. She profiles Orlando.

 _But those eyes don't look anything close to -_

"Miss Mars."

She jumps back to the present.

"Yes?" She replies generally.

To her right, Sheila leans forward, face still as mischievous as ever. "So is it true that you're an FBI agent?"

Veronica leans back against the desk again. "Maybe?"

"That means yes-but-you-don't-wanna-tell-us." Seaver grins.

Veronica smirks at the siblings - twins, since they're both juniors on the list she's just tapped up.

 _Dear Lord, Troy has twins._

"So what if I am?"

"Then maybe you're trying to avoid telling us something?" Valentina tries.

"Okay, but what?"

"Maybe why you're here instead of at the FBI?" Sheila resumes. "Wait, are you even at the FBI still?"

Veronica smiles. "Whoever said I was an agent in the first place?"

Sheila doesn't skip a beat. "Well, Drey told Lilly, and Lilly told Val, and Val told me. But that's just hearsay. I need to hear it from the source."

Now Veronica almost laughs. "So let's say I acknowledge that I used to be an agent. What does that infer?"

"That you're no longer one," Seaver contributes.

"Correct - and?"

"And there's probably a big reason why you quit. Because - if you were at school the same time as Mrs. Navarro was, that means you've been an agent for at least ten years. That means it must be a very significant career shift," Sheila concludes.

 _Career shift? Guess one could call it that._

"Very good. Looks like you guys are in the right place."

"So why?"

"Why what?" Veronica scrunches her brow.

"Why did you quit? Was it harassment? Office politics? Ex-boyfriend?" The way Sheila's eyes light up at the interrogation electrifies the room.

Veronica smirks. "Maybe a bit of everything? That kind of lifestyle - it's great. But it's also very demanding. Sometimes, we need a change of pace in life."

 _Let's hope that shuts them up._

"Like becoming a teacher?" Orlando's droning voice suddenly pipes up.

Veronica turns. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No." Orlando shrugs. "But, like, isn't it better to have, like, great things in life? You know, like big, crazy, epic stuff happening? Teaching is kinda boring."

 _Epic._

Veronica inhales. "Well, maybe I'm just getting a little old?"

"You're so not old, Miss Mars. You're hot!"

All eyes turn to Seaver, who suddenly blushes to his roots.

"Okay, Seaver, is it?"

He nods, almost imperceptibly.

"I'm going to set some ground rules. Number one, no calling the teacher hot. Number two" - she turns to Sheila - "no interrogating your teacher on her personal life. And number three, no implying that teaching is dumb, okay?"

Heads nod - everyone's.

"As for why I'm here today." She pauses, choosing her words. "I had a great job, I got tired of a great job, and I'm back to my roots. It looks like going around in circles, but - judging from those last names, your parents might have something to say about that."

And with a wink, she sends them to their screens.

* * *

 _A/N: This story is a big change of pace from my usual ones. I'm actually quite nervous about it. If you'd be so kind as to leave your thoughts, I'll embrace each comment! Special thanks to irma66 for all her help. I couldn't have done this without her._


	2. Retrospective Romantic Studies

"And that's how I got assigned the sustainability project," Orlando concludes while they make it through the generous glass doors.

"And suddenly the world is a dark and sinful place of resource mismanagement?" Logan counters.

"We do use a lot of electricity around here." The teenager kicks off his shoes. "All the AC usage and all."

"But we almost never pay for lights, do we?" Logan slides the shoe rack close. "All this glass is not just aesthetic, kiddo."

"But - "

"No, we are not building a hydro-power waterfall in our backyard. We won't waste energy, but we're not erecting windmills either."

"But, _Mr. Echolls_!"

Logan huffs as he dislodges his tie and tosses it on the marble coffee table. "We're home, Orlando. No need for pretenses."

"Orlando! You're home!" An uncomfortably high-pitched female voice echoes through the open layout first floor, accompanied by the pitter-patter of fast footsteps down the stairs.

Both men cringe. Logan speaks first, "And apparently, someone else is too."

"Hey, Mom," Orlando barely manages before his ribs are crushed by two short but very strong arms. "Uhm - filming went well?"

"Oh, it was wonderful! Lots of big, big stars," she shudders in obnoxious delight as she releases him. "I got to share a scene with Allen Warbling!"

"Did he get upset that you photobombed his big monologue?" Logan quips.

"Logan! Whatever is wrong with you?" She flicks her wrist in a 'come on' gesture. "Shouldn't you be _supportive_ of me?"

"Oh trust me, Trina." He rolls down horizontally on the grey couch, legs dangling off the armrest like a teenager. Old habits die hard. "I've supported plenty."

She pointedly ignores him and refocuses her energy on the other unfortunate gentleman in the room.

"Oh, look at you." Her hands wander about Orlando's shoulders and arms. "You've gotten taller!"

"Yeah," he grunts.

"And you're just so super handsome!"

Logan smirks at the sight of a cringing Orlando.

"So what have you been up to? Any parties? Any special lady friends I should know about? Oh! Any special projects?" Trina's red hair bounces in rhythm to her exaggerated winks.

"Uhm, nothing - really."

"He's been assigned a journalism project," Logan mutters from the couch. "And guess whose house is going to be the primary feature in the '09er sustainable living report'?"

"Who? Who?"

"Lilly Kane's," Orlando answers with a very blatant eye roll at his uncle.

Trina gasps. "Lilly! Oh wow, that'll be the _perfect_ chance! Just spend some more time with her as you talk about the house, and I _know_ she'll just fall in love with you!"

"Mom, we've talked about this. I - "

"Uh, uh, uh" - she presses a finger to his lips - "stop convincing me that Sheila is better than Lilly. Lilly is an heiress, Orlando! Lone heiress to the entire Kane fortune!"

"Mom, I - "

"Look, I know your uncle talked to me about this." A chuckle escapes Logan. Trina continues, "And I'm okay with you liking Sheila, for now. But think of the big picture, Orlando! Wouldn't it be splendid to spend your entire life with a beautiful and sexy heiress?"

"Who said in her essay that Disney invented the character Hercules," Logan groans. He shuffles deeper into the soft cushions. "I know you ship them, Trina, but give your son credit for choosing someone with a brain."

"Thanks, Logan."

Trina clears her throat scandalously. "That's _Uncle_ Logan, Orlando."

"Uncle Logan." Orlando smirks, obviously knowing how much his young uncle hates it. "Anyways, I'm gonna head up. Welcome back, Mom. I'll see you later."

He gives Logan a high-five along the way and runs upstairs, pouty mother be damned.

Logan chuckles.

"What?" Trina whips around, hands fisted on hips.

"You realize that the actual house being studied is not the reason Orlando's excited for the project, right?"

Trina frowns. Logan grins.

"His partner for the project is Sheila Vandergraff. So guess who will actually be the ones spending lots of time together?"

"Logan!" She protests, "Why do you keep pushing him with that girl? I know her dad used to be old money, but he's just a white-collar worker now. Doesn't Orlando deserve something better?"

"It's not all about the money, Trina." Logan slings an arm over his eyes.

"Of course! But it's a lot about it." She gestures dramatically at the posh, grey-scale furnishings around them. "Where else would all this come from?"

"I dunno - maybe from a teenage brother who's actually kind enough to take his pregnant and battered older sister in?"

"Hush, Logan! Orlando might hear."

Logan snickers and removes his arm to look at her. "And when has the truth ever hurt him? You douse him with your version of the Aaron Echolls heritage stories often enough. Made him very popular too - in his own head."

"Well, I just - don't want him to know about his dad, you know?"

The genuine contriteness in her voice has Logan bite back his next barb about her deadbeat ex-boyfriend. "Sure, but you can't protect him forever."

"And what are you doing now - Mister Teacher?"

"I am _guiding_ him." He pulls himself up until he's seated normally. "And making sure that there's someone around for all the times his mom decides to hit the road for the next audition or bit role."

Trina shrugs, and Logan smirks at the sight. One of these days, there's going to be more Botox than real Trina on that face, but because he's just that sentimental of a guy, he'll love her anyway.

"Come on, sis." He stands up. "How's Japanese sound for a welcome back dinner tonight?"

She smiles at him gratefully.

"Orlando! Joining us for Japanese?" Logan hollers.

"Sure! Just a minute!"

The siblings shrug at each other until the kid runs down. Logan picks up his keys from the coffee table before heading towards the door.

"By the way, Lo - I mean, Uncle Lo." Logan turns. "Lilly made me 'pinky promise' to ask."

All three family members stop.

"Our journalism teacher today?" Orlando continues, "She used to go to Neptune High - like, around your time. Would you happen to know a Veronica Mars?"

* * *

"Free refills? Priority seating? How often _do_ you come here?"

Mac blushes ever-so-slightly as she resettles on the auburn couch. "Well - it kinda helps when you're engaged to the owner?"

The coffee cup hits the desk. "No!"

"Yes?" Mac offers.

"What have we said about taking advantage of rich boyfriends?"

Mac's hand is on her arm in an instant. "But this isn't rich boyfriend, okay? I invested some of my savings too. So technically, I own Thalassa as much as Dick does."

Too tired to argue, Veronica sits back with a huff. "Still can't imagine you engaged - to Dick Casablancas of all people."

Veronica shudders.

Mac laughs. "It took him a while to convince me. But around the time of Cassidy's death anniversary - the tenth one, actually - he just kinda, well, grew up."

"And you dumbed down?"

"The surfer dude you used to know is no more, Veronica."

"But it might come back to haunt your future."

"What?"

Veronica shrugs as she throws a look at the warm dangling light above their table. The Thalassa's cozy, warm, woody interiors really are the best in town, she must admit.

 _Doesn't mean I like the owner._

"That journalism club in school today? Totally crazy."

"Okay," Mac acknowledges, face slightly scrunched. "Care to elaborate?"

"Well, there were a bunch of kids from people we used to know, you know. There's Clemmons and Navarro galore in there. And call me a liar if Seaver doesn't look and act _exactly_ like his dad."

"Seaver?"

"Vandergraff."

"Oh." Mac unsuccessfully represses a chuckle. "He has a kid in _high school_?"

"Yup. Probably knocked up Shauna before she ditched him for good."

"Bitter?"

"No, no." Veronica shrugs. "Just - feeling old, I guess?"

Mac smiles understandingly. "We all do, Veronica. But you're so gonna get reminded of the fact a lot more than I in the coming months."

"Ugh, I can't believe Wallace talked me into this." She puts her face in her hands.

"Wallace?" Mac laughs. "You seriously believe that."

"What? He essentially blackmailed me."

"Because of that 'diaper or housekeeper speech' you mentioned on the phone?"

Veronica nods earnestly.

"You realize Almira is turning eight, right? Diapers. Really, Veronica?"

 _Sounds silly now._

"But Wallace said - "

"Wallace gave you an excuse, girl. You _wanted_ to teach."

"No, I don't." She looks down at her second cup of espresso.

"Based on what you just told me, you are officially eligible to write a conduct report on Principal Clemmons's granddaughter _and_ Troy's kid. How does that _not_ excite you, Veronica?"

The blonde shrugs, one hand stirring her glass coffee cup absent-mindedly. They fall silent.

"Vee?"

"Well, there's also that, uhm - Orlando kid, you know."

Mac looks up, remarkably alert. "Orlando - Echolls?"

"Yup."

"Ah, I see," she speaks slowly. "Met the family?"

"Nope. Didn't have to, I suppose."

"Ah." Mac leans back, lips twitching up. "Not a common name, it's true."

"Yeah."

The girls stay quiet at Veronica's defeated tone.

"Mac, do you think he took a long time before he - "

"No."

"Yeah, I figured."

"No, I mean - I'm pretty sure Logan never cheated on you. Wait, make that really sure."

"I guess. I mean Orlando is a junior, so - "

"So have you checked out that sweet teachers' lounge?"

"Huh? Mac, I just asked you - "

"Wallace says it's the most amazing thing ever - aromatic coffee, comfy furniture, everything you'd ever need - "

"Mac!"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I am telling you that the brand new Neptune High faculty lounge is totes amazing," she responds innocently.

"Totes? Really, Mac? No one says that anymore."

"Yeah, I know. That Iron Man 5 joke kinda butchered it."

"It was dying in the first place."

"Fine, the MCU certified it."

"Totally."

"You mean 'totes,' right?"

* * *

The empty hallways look extra empty as she turns an unfamiliar corner towards the new Emilia P. Gant extension. She scoffs internally. At least _some_ Neptune taxpayers had a heart.

 _Goodbye memorial fountains, hello narcissistic donors._

She pauses for a moment at the next corner.

 _Where did Wallace say it was again?_

Veronica walks closer to the hallway stretching away from the rest of the building. At the corner, she leans to her right to peek at whatever lies behind the curving corridor. Her eyes widen.

 _Wow, talk about secret lair._

Picking up the pace, she steps quickly towards the deep brown door at the end of the winding hallway, a door emblazoned with shiny gold letters spelling 'Teachers Lounge.'

 _Isn't there supposed to be an apostrophe somewhere in there?_

She shrugs. Then tentatively, she fingers the hotel-esque digital panel where there should otherwise have been a door knob. She reaches into her pocket for her temporary teacher's ID.

One bleep later, she's ushered into a top-of-the-line luxury area rivaling the world's best airline lounges.

The door closes automatically behind her as she involuntarily steps into the fragrant coffee aroma filling the room. She inhales. What better place to kill the time until her briefing with the principal?

She glances at the hopeless 6 a.m. on her watch.

 _Ugh, jetlag._

Certain she'll be alone for a while, she drinks in the slow glow of the sky preparing for sunrise as she wanders over the lush carpeting and fluffy seats. The lounge is laid out in an almost octagonal shape, with one side dedicated to the entrance, another side to a giant screen, and the rest to glorious glass panels. She gravitates towards the beverage table near the 'back' of the room - assuming the screen's in front.

 _Hmmm, Blue Mountain._

Mac wasn't kidding about this place.

She quietly pours herself a mug and lifts it to her nose with both hands. She slowly inhales the earthy aroma.

"Ever the coffee lover."

She freezes.

For two long seconds - far longer than it would've required her to grab a gun and subdue any aggressor back in her prime - she stands still as stone.

 _Did I just hear -_

"Veronica?"

With calculated calm, she places her mug on the marble-tiled table and turns cautiously around. She looks up.

"Hey," she finally makes out.

 _Breathe slowly, Veronica._

She smiles sincerely as she meets his eye. For someone who cares so little about maintaining his cool, he sure looks as suave in his grey suit as ever. She almost shakes her head at the thought.

 _No good feeding his ego._

Not sure what to say, she smiles again.

"I'm sorry to take you by surprise." Logan smiles back amicably, one hand lifted and pointing to no where in particular. "I guess I wasn't aware that you - weren't aware. I mean, if Orlando hadn't told me - "

"Orlando, yes." She mumbles, hands suddenly searching for non-existent pockets. Who's Orlando again?

 _I mean - oh, yes. Him._

She takes a deep breath. "So, uhm - how's being a father?"

 _Be cool, Veronica._

Logan blinks for a few seconds before breaking out in a smile. "Well, you tell me. Never been one. But if you wanna hear what it's like being an _uncle_ \- might have a tip or two up my sleeve."

And suddenly she feels as silly as fifteen-year-old Veronica with a crush on Logan Echolls.

 _Mac, I am killing you later._

"I - I had no idea. I mean - Trina?"

He nods, still smiling.

"Ah - so, uhm, is that why you decided to - teach?"

 _Oh yeah, Wallace, you're on death row too. Just casually forgot to mention a heavenly lounge and an ex-boyfriend. No biggie, huh?_

"A little, maybe?" Logan speaks with surprising ease in comparison to the jitters she's desperately hiding. "It was Orlando that drove me to find Charlie. And Charlie was just a little bit biased towards his line of work."

Veronica nods with a smile as who 'Charlie' was dawns on her. "I'm glad you - found each other again, despite the odds."

"Right." Logan grins. "Nothing like a big romantic brotherly reunion."

She laughs. "Sorry - went a little Nick Sparks there."

"Nick Sparks?" Logan mimics a teenager. "Who's that? Wow, you're old, Miss Mars."

Old patterns kick in as she instinctively punches him in the arm. "Who are you calling old? _Uncle_ Logan."

He laughs, free hand soothing the assaulted spot.

"I'll have you know I'm only visiting my _sister_ here in Neptune, Grandpa," she adds with a wink.

"Right, right - Veronica Mars - ageless goddess." He grins.

"That's right." She smiles before lowering her lashes a little wistfully. Who knew he could be just as charming after all these years? She looks up slightly. But somehow - touched by adulthood - Logan Echolls has magically traded in his jackass card. There's wit, but no sting. There's charm, but no flattery.

She remembers his latest comment and grins.

 _Well, almost no flattery._

"So - what brings you to leave the FBI?"

She glances up at his question. "Oh, well - it's not a lifelong career in a lot of ways. Murders and crime rings and everything - gets old, actually."

Logan nods at her huff. "I know what you mean. Life doesn't always end up the way we plan. Who knew I'd be ending up here, you know?"

Veronica chuckles. "I know. Must be hard to fend off those cougar moms, huh?"

A darkness instantly flits across Logan's features, and she bites her lip.

 _Bad joke, very bad joke. For all you know, he's found some -_

Her mind suddenly flashes back to a passing comment Mac made three years ago during her visit to D.C. Her heart aches a little.

"Oh," she blurts out. "Sorry, I forgot. Uhm, what's her name again? Tiffany? I'm so forgetful."

She fights the urge to check his left hand ring finger.

Logan looks at her confused. "Tiffany? Oh - she left - I mean, we broke up two years ago."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Right at the moment, the inopportune sunrise pours into the room. As always, she instantly shifts behind the closest object that could shield her eyes from the rays. In this case - it's Logan Echolls.

She grins up at him apologetically at the realization of what she'd done. "Sorry."

"It's fine." He seems to have recovered. "I should've known you'd have heard about Tiffany."

She nods. Fiancées really are supposed to be far more permanent than girlfriends.

"She - she couldn't really accept my role in Orlando's life. So - "

"Logan." Her hands find his shoulder in a gesture meant to be assuring. "You don't have to explain."

He looks at her intensely for a moment before sliding back into a smile and nod. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

Now it's her turn to frown. "Logan, I know that in the past - "

"Bygones."

She looks up at the open sincerity on his face at the same time she feels _his_ hand resting on _her_ shoulder. For a moment, they hold still, neither of them removing or augmenting the literal arm's length between them.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"Of course," he answers. "I mean - I've heard too, of course. Uhm, there was this Seth or something? I mean - someone."

At her laughter, they both let go and refold their hands to their sides. She speaks almost incredulously. "Seth was probably - three work boyfriends ago, maybe? They all kinda run together after a while. No time to date, date your colleague, argue with your colleague, break-up with your colleague, swear _never_ to date another colleague - and then, well, live-die-repeat?"

Logan laughs. "Fair enough."

She smiles. "You ever tried dating a colleague?"

 _Your tongue, Veronica!_

To her relief, he replies casually enough. "Never tried it, but who knows?"

She doesn't even get to respond.

"Rise and shine, everyone!" The two of them whip around to face the entrance. Door sliding close behind him, Wallace strides in with his hands held high and wide, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Wallace," they both state disapprovingly.

"What?" The basketball coach shrugs, grins, and flops down on an armchair.

* * *

"He's known as the Father of English Drama, Bard of Avon, or simply, The Bard." Logan twirls a pen as he works his way down the center aisle.

He whips around at the last row. "Anyone able to ID our guest of honor?"

A unison of grumbling voices fills the room.

"Really, Mr. Echolls?" Seaver's voice lingers.

He hops back in front. "Seriously, folks, this isn't seventh grade."

"And seriously to you, _Mr. Echolls_ ," a high female voice pitches in from the back, its owner flipping her long blond hair. "You can't expect us to be paying attention in here - to _Shakespeare_."

He bites back the reprimand her exaggerated wink triggered. Teaching is fun, but not always. "Thank you, Lilly. I'm glad you actually remember whom we're talking about - especially considering it's your _second_ time taking this class."

The giggles Miss Kane sends his way show just how little she cares.

 _You're a teacher, Logan. Be the bigger man._

"So." He cocks his head to the side and resumes the pace. "What's the first thing to come to mind when I say Shakespeare?"

"Boring?" Orlando offers.

One glare from Logan silences him - and the rest of the class.

"Sheila?" Logan calls.

"I'd say acting," she answers casually, pigtails bobbing.

"Good. He was actually both actor and writer. Drey?"

"Plays?"

"Okay, any specific ones?"

" _Romeo and Juliet_?" A feminine voice ventures in front.

"Good, Valentina." Logan smiles benevolently. "Any others?"

Shouts of _MacBeth_ , _Hamlet,_ and a dozen other failed attempts ensue.

"Okay, fair enough. Now, if I were to ask for the _theme_ of any of these plays, what would you say?"

The room falls silent for a second. A lone hand flies up.

Logan turns to Seaver's closely-cropped head. "Yes?"

"Look, dude - I mean, sir - whatever. But uhm, isn't Shakespeare like all about love and stuff? But I mean, look at us" - he gestures generously to the rest of the students around him and ends with an arm around Lilly's shoulder. "Do we _look_ like we need advice on that?"

Logan raises an eyebrow, amused, as he watches Lilly disdainfully remove the unwelcome hand from her skin. His smile disappears at the realization of just how skimpy Lilly's tube top of an outfit is.

 _They really should enforce that dress code_.

"You know what, Seaver - in a sense, you're right." He saunters casually towards the teenage boy's desk. "Shakespeare did write generously about love."

Most of the class looks up, excited to hear him agree with the class clown, for once.

"But." He pauses for effect. "I _do_ think you have a thing or two to learn about love."

Seaver's sneer strikes an almost comedic contrast against his classmates' muffled laughs.

"Cuz you see," Logan smiles and continues, pen waving, as he circles the room. "Shakespeare didn't _just_ write about romantic love. Sure, _Romeo and Juliet_ might be one of the most popular cultural staples he's ever created. But, in his works, Shakespeare showed love in various forms."

He leans back against the teacher's table and glances over the students' focused gazes.

 _Never a hook better than romance. Well - except for the occasion vampire or zombie._

" _Romeo and Juliet_ may be mostly about the love between a man and a woman, but it was equally driven by two sets of parents' misguided love for their children." He twirls his pen another two times before depositing it on the tabletop. He lets his hands flow with his words. "And there are plenty of other loves. In _King Lear_ , we see the love of Cordelia for her father - no matter how little her sisters may care. In the sidelines of _MacBeth_ , we see individuals whose love for Scotland was so strong that they would seek the rightful king's return rather than take the chance to earn power for themselves."

He pulls himself up straight, hands now in pockets. "So, in a sense, we _can_ say Shakespeare is all about love. Because love for someone - or something - is the driving force behind anything we do."

"Mr. Echolls?" Everyone turns to their right towards Drey's question. "What did you have for breakfast?"

 _Huh?_

"Cuz you sound _so in love,_ man."

The class sniggers as Logan feels himself involuntarily blushing.

 _Blushing, Logan? You're too far past thirty for that._

He lets out a slow breath.

 _And it's what came after breakfast that mattered, kiddo._

"I am compelled by the complexity of love in literature - as all of you should be."

He turns to his trusty source for model student behavior. "Don't you think so, Valentina?"

She smiles up kindly at him from the front row. "Yes, sir. Love in literature reflects the different kinds of love in life."

"Any examples?"

"Is it okay if it's romantic love?"

Logan nods.

"Well, I just thought, you know." She sounds far too timid. "Even romantic love has many forms. We're all different people, so no matter who is in love with whom - it's always going to be different, you know?"

Logan nods with a smile. "Very good. Romantic love in and of itself is already complex. And in our melting pot culture, there are couples who manage to bridge even more differences. There are couples who are very different in culture, in talents, in height - "

"And in _age_ , sir?"

He looks up at the voice. Lilly's eyes are glowing - in a way that conveys far more hungry tigress than blithesome fairy.

 _What did she say again?_

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, you don't have to be!" Lilly's voice is haughty, triumphant. "It's _totally_ normal for a teacher to have the hots for me."

"Lilly, what are you talking about?" His fingers begin to grip the edge of the old-fashioned wooden desk. He's had this talk with her one too many times already - last year.

"What?" The teenager shrugs carelessly. "As if you don't believe in teenagers having sex."

Then she stands up, predator mode complete, as she leans forward on her desk until her ass is in the face of the student behind her. "I know things, Mr. Echolls. You were never a chastity case yourself. You totally used to bang my aunt in high school."

"Lilly Kane," he warns, eyes demanding her to retreat. This could not be allowed to escalate.

"Oh!" She yelps in affected glee, a flirtatious hand to her chest. "Guess what? That was her name too! Want another go with a younger version?"

"Enough!" Now he bellows as he marches forcefully to her desk. He grabs her books, strides to the back of the room, and plants her belongings there. "Miss Kane, you _will_ stay at the back of the room for the remainder of the class - and for detention after that."

* * *

"What exactly did you think you were doing?" Tempered patience threatens to give way as he leans over the fists he's planted on his desk. He closes his eyes at the next line. "Do you have any idea what you're making of yourself?"

Legs crossed and blond hair twirled around her index finger, Lilly shrugs.

"Miss Kane," he warns firmly. "That kind of behavior in class – or outside class, for that matter - is completely unacceptable."

"Oh," she pipes up then, eyelashes fluttering. "Not enough, sir?"

"Lilly! This is the last warning before I request that you be transferred to another class. For the nth time, flirting with the teacher is not appropriate behavior."

 _Nor with any man old enough to be your father._

Logan blinks his eyes at the fleeting image of another Lilly Kane giggling in class. Who knew how many lovers that one _actually_ had?

Young Lilly's giggle brings him back to the present.

"Lilly," he warns again.

"And how are you gonna make that transfer, _Mr. Echolls_?" She uncrosses her legs then, leaning forward until her cleavage almost grazes her kneecaps. "You can't prove I'm a disturbance in class unless you admit to being attracted to me. And oh! What happens to teachers who say they're attracted to students, again?"

 _As if there was ever any doubt that this creature's part Celeste._

"Lilly, I am _not_ attracted to you - or to any of my students. Could that be any clearer?" His hands fly into the air before handing on his hips.

"Awww, poor motherless student versus grown-up male teacher with violent past. Who do you think the district will believe?"

"Lill - "

"Logan."

Teacher and student turn to face the figure at the open door.

 _Oh._

Logan exhales before he instinctively steps a yard closer. "Yes, Veronica?"

Lips in a grim smile, she wanders in with two other students at her heels, her hands folded neatly on top of each other.

Logan raises an eyebrow at the sight of his nephew and the object of his teenage affections.

"So, we - we were wondering." Veronica tries a variety of teacher-like intonations. "If you could excuse Lilly here? Orlando and Sheila need to head to her house for their project."

And if it weren't for Lilly preening delightedly at her sudden out, he would've found a hesitant Veronica far too distracting to resume any form of regular mental function.

Logan sighs. "You heard my warning, Lilly. I expect you to respect it."

"Oh yes, totally," Lilly concedes far too easily before whipping out the door with a victorious smirk.

"Miss Mars?" Sheila starts.

"It's okay. You guys go ahead. Do well."

They disappear before anyone else gets another word in.

"Logan?"

He belatedly realizes that he's been staring at an invisible spot on the ground. He offers a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm just - "

"That Lilly?" Her eyes sparkle with sudden vulnerability.

 _Right, she didn't know._

He nods. "Yes, the one and only."

She nods back absent-mindedly.

"And unfortunately for both herself and for all of us," he mutters, helpless. "She takes after Auntie Lills more than Mommy Meg."

She smiles for a little. "Guess dominant genes are dominant?"

He relaxes into a bit of a smile. "Not to mention the influence of a father who utterly spoils her."

"You guys still meet?"

He shrugs. "A little, sometimes - special occasions and all."

Veronica nods. "No more Saturday morning surfing sessions for English teachers and CEO's, huh?"

He smiles.

 _Mars forgets nothing._

"So what's the poison now - corporate pool parties? All-nighters of adult entertainment and grand debauchery?"

Logan laughs. "How about one stack of reading quizzes, one stack of book reports, and three hours' worth of online submissions?"

"With a pint of beer?"

"Uhm, maybe a cup of Thalassa house blend?"

"English teacher with coffee? Never pegged you for a stereotype, Logan."

"Well." He smiles. "Maybe it's about time I try being one."

"Logan Echolls boring and predictable? This I gotta see." She folds her arms and quirks a brow.

"Hey, you never predicted this." He plugs a thumb towards himself with a casual grin.

"Fair enough."

And the radiant smile she gives him makes him grin like a fool for pretty much the rest of the night.

* * *

 _A/N: Okay, I know that the chapter titles have too much of a "Community" vibe, which is more college than high school. But it's just too fun to resist. So please forgive my indulgence :) My heartfelt thanks for the incredibly encouraging response to the first chapter. I try to reply to every logged in comment. And special thanks to irma66 for all her help in catching my typos and inconsistencies :)_


	3. Teenage Sociology

She snuggles her shoulders back against the lush padding of the dark grey love seat, steaming black coffee in hand, as she stretches out her legs.

 _I could get used to this._

"Enjoying yourself?" Logan asks, smile in his voice, as he seats himself matter-of-factly on her left.

She turns to him with a small nod and a smile of her own. "And they say the corporate world gets all the perks."

Logan laughs. "Very true. Don't think Kane Tech's employee lounge could rival those napping pods."

Her eyes widen as she trails his head-tilt towards the two luscious pods near the back of the lounge.

 _This place is heaven._

"Makes you wonder why teaching is such an unpopular job," she mutters.

To her surprise, two male voices sputter in laughter to her left and right. She glances at a laughing Logan for a split second before whipping around to the stepbrother standing beside the couch.

"You will so see why it is in a moment, sista." Wallace sips his coffee.

"Sista? Really? You still owe me one, buddy," she outright complains, disregarding the bustle of other colleagues around the open space.

"For what?" Wallace perks up, eyes all innocence.

 _Sure, ask me in front of Logan, smarty-pants._

She rolls her eyes and groans.

"Attention, everyone!"

Veronica turns to the source of the voice and immediately pops into perfect posture like a teacher's pet. The woman may be short, but she carries plenty of punch without a gun.

"She gets to you too?" Logan whispers, he himself sitting upright.

"Would I be weak to say yes?" She whispers back.

"You'd be human."

They both smile.

"As you know, today is a very special day." The portly lady in front - grey suit and pumps and all - gestures firmly at the magnified school calendar on the screen. She throws back her grey bun with an air of absolute authority. "Today is homecoming, and we need to run through those chaperone assignments right now."

The collective groan across the crowd catches Veronica by surprise.

 _Aren't students supposed to be the ones complaining in school?_

She recollects her thoughts, hands holding her coffee cup securely on her lap. She could sense Logan smirking right beside her.

"Since we are short of male teachers this year and need more men on duty for the second shift, only male teachers with pre-existing commitments may be excused from chapping."

To her right, Wallace shifts on the armrest and grins.

"Is this why you were so pumped about your coach convention thingy tonight?" She whispers hoarsely, willing her voice to travel upwards.

"You're slipping, sis. Who says C-CON _has_ to be tonight thing? Those sessions run for a week." He grins back nefariously.

"Nuh-uh."

 _Wallace not being a model citizen?_

"Uh-huh." He's still grinning.

In front, the principal drones on about why chaperoning teenagers during a school dance is the most pivotal thing a teacher could do.

"Is it really that bad?" She asks under her breath.

"Not for everyone," Logan pipes up to her left. She turns. "But for _him_?"

At Logan's knowing smirk, she turns back to face Wallace, brow thoroughly furrowed. Wallace shrugs. "It's one thing to see your nephew chasing girls his own age. But I do _not_ need to see my little brother making passes at Lilly all night."

Her brain lights up as the threads connect. "Drey?"

Both Logan and Wallace nod.

"Lilly - Kane?"

They nod again.

"But I thought Lilly - "

"Lilly is every bit a junior version of her aunt," Logan explains, still whispering. "And requiring the attention of multiple specimens of the male species at any given time is an unfortunate part of her genetic make-up."

She thinks back to the girl in Logan's classroom two days ago, her ample assets threatening to spill out of her top at a moment's indiscretion. She shakes her head. "And Duncan lets her?"

Logan frowns slightly before replying, "I asked him about it before. But I guess when it comes to blind spots - he's got a titanic one with her name on it."

She frowns at the realization that this is _her_ goddaughter they're talking about. Would the original Lilly be appalled - or proud?

"But he's not the only one blinded."

It takes a moment for her to realize he's still talking about Duncan. "Oh yeah?"

"You should see Valentina following her around like a sewn-on shadow. So disheartening."

The sadness in Logan's voice sounds far too close to parental disappointment to be anything else.

 _Logan Echolls - disappointed teacher. Who'd have thought?_

"Mr. Echolls!"

She looks up at the principal's voice.

"You'll be taking second shift, as usual?"

Logan nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"And don't bring a shiny new convertible this time," the lady warns as a ripple of giggles pass through the room.

Veronica grins.

 _Guess homecoming hijinks never get old._

"Yes, ma'am." Logan sounds almost embarrassed. "I won't, Principal Stacy."

She nods, satisfied, as she continues to work the room with the rest of the assignments.

"I take it the last car is no longer the bachelor's pride it once was?" She whispers, leaning to her left.

Logan shakes his head with a grim smile. "Apparently, shiny and dark convertibles are the closest resemblance to toilet bowls that drunken, nauseated students could find near a school gym."

She can't decide to laugh or cry. "Underage drinking? My, my, what has become of my lovely alma mater?"

That one got him grinning.

"Mr. Fennel?" Principal Stacy nears the end of her list. "You're excused on grounds of representing the school to C-CON?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Veronica holds back the laughter and indignation threatening to sputter out of their own accord.

"Alright, that should be everybody! Now, for the dress code."

Veronica tunes out momentarily as female teachers brainstorm the best possible way to describe a modest hemline.

 _Try 'don't show your butt,' people._

"Ever wondered why we call her by her first name?" Logan's whisper interrupts her contemplation.

She turns to him with a small shake of her head.

He grins, obviously enjoying imparting this bit of information. "Cuz of her last name."

Her mind scrambles for subconscious information. "Principal Stacy. Principal Stacy - "

"Boring," Wallace and Logan blurt out simultaneously. Her eyes widen.

"No way!"

Logan nods, still grinning. "She used to be Stacy Mansfield, but she married businessman Alan Boring three years ago. Being a traditional man, he was rather insistent of her taking his last name."

"Stacy Mansfield Boring?" She's still grinning incredulously. "What better name for a principal?"

"None better."

She chuckles again at the revelation. "Well, well, we're quite the town gossip now, aren't we, Logan?"

"Trina can be slightly contagious."

"Slightly?"

"Very."

Perfectly at ease, Veronica laughs out loud.

"Miss Mars?"

She freezes at the question that sounds so much like a command. She peeks at the suited lady, body stiff and guarded. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I've just been reminded that since Mrs. Hawkins usually takes the second shift, it would make full sense for you to take her place in her absence. Please be thoroughly familiar with the student dress code, particularly for girls re-emerging from the bathroom."

 _What did I get myself into?_

"Miss Mars, do you hear me? Chapping duties, second shift, 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. tonight. Be there."

"Makes you wish you agreed to join your baby brother for C-CON," Wallace whispers gleefully.

"Miss Mars?"

"Yes, ma'am," she finally manages. "I'll be there."

"Good." And the principal marches on to the next item on her list.

 _Did I just agree to be a responsible adult among an entire gym of hormonal teenagers into the wee hours of the morning?_

"Hey." She feels Logan's hand on her shoulder and turns at his voice. "I can give you a ride - if you want one?"

 _Homecoming with Logan Echolls?_

Her lips spread slowly into a smile. "Sure."

* * *

"Glad your dad didn't insist on the no-alcohol-and-sex talk," he raises his voice over the music.

She laughs, eyes tracing the colorful streamers as she leans back in her metal chair. "He's saving it all for Almira."

"Jealous?"

She considers and shrugs. "Sometimes - but only until she runs over hugging me and telling me I'm her hero."

Logan grins and takes a sip of his soda. She glances over, quietly appreciating the way he elevates faculty fashion with his simple brown suit.

 _Probably didn't have to change as many times as I did either._

She tugs self-consciously at the ruffled hem of her dark purple dress, feeling twenty years younger in contrast to Principal Stacey's floral-print maxi skirt ensemble.

"She picked a good one."

"Huh?" She shouts over the noise of screaming teens at the start of a new song - apparently a fan favorite.

"Almira picked a good role model," he repeats, eyes and lips smiling.

She smiles back as the music thumps far too loudly to allow normal conversation.

"Give it up for the Fab Four of the night!" The amplified male voice booms over the speakers. Veronica shifts up to catch the view as the pool of sweaty students turn to face the gym entrance with uncanny synchronization.

 _Fab Four?_

High school nicknames don't get any more creative, apparently.

The whole room feels warmer as the students hail the arrival of high school royalty, squeals and giggles reverberating all the way to the caverned ceiling. Veronica tugs her chair to the left, attempting at a better view. Logan quickly obliges by shifting almost halfway off his seat. Unwillingly to blend in with the jumping crowd, she tries to sit taller instead.

A flash of winter white catches sparkle from the swinging lights. On top of it all, Orlando waves and grins at his fans.

Of all the entrance announcements of the evening - his is the most dramatic.

 _And a white tuxedo - it figures._

Veronica simultaneously smiles and shakes her head as she feels Logan sighing beside her.

"Not a fan of your nephew's popularity?" She teases.

" _Inherited_ popularity, mind you."

She could see him smile a little after the gruff reply.

"Some things are inevitable," she states casually.

But the depth of his gaze when he turns around to face hers was anything but casual. Her smile falters for a split second as she catches her breath.

"Some things are - aren't they?" He whispers so softly she almost misses it.

Heart racing, fingers sweating - she just can't look away.

"Shake the floor!"

Seaver's loud holler pulls them both from their momentary trance and back to the crowd they're supposed to be watching. Shaken, Veronica tries instead to zoom in on the Vandergraff twins trailing in right after Orlando's grand entrance, the crowd chanting 'shake the floor,' 'robot man,' and all the latest strange concoctions of English words.

 _No one can permanently master the English language, apparently._

Then, as if choreographed, the entire room - people and music alike - falls entirely silent. Veronica looks at Logan quizzically. He shrugs and sighs, resigned.

"People of Neptune High!" The announcer bellows into his microphone. The atmospheric pressure of the room reaches a feverish height. "I give you your queen - the beautiful, stupendous, fabulicious, rivetating, extrasuperordinary Miss Lilly Kane!"

The speakers erupt with prerecorded orchestra pageant music as Lilly - decked in a barely-there crimson gown that seems to have more cut-outs than fabric - saunters in with one hand on hip, another on train. Girls squeal, guys ogle, and teachers roll their eyes as Lilly hooks her hand in Seaver's proffered arm and heads straight to the dance floor.

" _That_ passes dress code?" Veronica whispers, her mind still trying hard to comprehend the bikini of an evening dress hanging on the Kane heiress's lithe frame.

"Didn't do your homework?" Logan quips.

She gives him a 'let's be serious' glare. He huffs with a small grin, obviously frustrated.

"Only a girl who has access to bespoke couture can manage to order something every single year that fulfills all the schools rules as well as all the boys' fantasies."

"Yours too?" The question falls out by itself.

"Oh no, Veronica, I swear to God." He inhales deeply, his eyes suddenly pained. "If I ever thought that way - "

"Hey." Her hand finds his forearm. "I was kidding, okay? I don't know why I said that."

She waits until he meets her eyes to continue. "I know you're nothing like your father."

And the grateful smile he gives her shows just how accurately she guessed his thoughts.

 _I'm bad at this thing called conversation._

She smiles back at him and scrambles to change the subject. "So - assuming the Vandergraff siblings aren't lame enough to take each other to a school dance - I'm assuming Orlando and Sheila?"

Logan grins, this time more relaxed. "You should've seen him when she finally confirmed her 'yes' yesterday. The kid's on cloud nine."

"I take it the family approves?"

Logan shrugs, still smiling as his eyes trail to the sight of Orlando dancing enthusiastically with Sheila. "The _uncle_ approves, anyway. But gotta hand it to Orlando - the moment Trina heard that Lilly Kane was gonna share his limo, she didn't hear a single word he said afterwards."

"Ah, so _you're_ the mole."

Logan laughs. "No, _she's_ the one oblivious. You figured out more in two seconds than she has in the past year."

Veronica puts on her most offended gasp. "Really, Logan? Me and Trina in the same sentence?"

Now they both laugh. And as they do, he eases back to sit on most of his chair, his right arm reaching casually across the back of hers.

She leans back against it with a smile.

 _Stay on topic, Veronica._

She sighs theatrically. "Trina is being silly. Seriously, how hard is it to figure out that when two single people go to a dance with two siblings, that the two unrelated ones aren't attracted to each other?"

The way Logan inhales beside her makes her own words sink in at lightning speed.

She inhales too. "Unless - of course - "

"They are."

Their faces immediately turn to each other's, their noses far too close for casual friends. Her eyes water at the resurgence of memories long buried.

Duncan Kane may have been her date at that first homecoming dance.

But when it comes to who _actually_ makes her relish those Kodak moments, he is dead last on the list.

"Were they?" Logan asks, eyes heavy.

Her breath grows increasingly shallow as her mind relives each confession from Logan that night.

"Yeah." She smiles. "They were."

* * *

"Thanks, Greg." Logan nods at the student who hands him the two purple mocktails in transparent cups.

 _Can't say homecoming hasn't gotten fancy at around here._

Colorful lights still flashing chaotically around him, he turns back towards the teacher's station he's been sharing with Veronica. One look at her petite form, golden hair, and sparkling blue eyes later, he sighs and stays where he is.

 _Oh, Veronica._

He takes a sip of his own drink, still gazing at her, tapping her foot in rhythm to the music as she watches over the hopping, swaying, screaming dance crowd.

Logan sighs and wishes he has a free hand to run through his hair, just like old times.

He hasn't really dated anyone after Tiffany. In fact, after her brutal upheaval of his life two months before the wedding, he's resigned himself to never settling down until Orlando's at least off to college. He smiles grimly. Apparently, no matter how gorgeous the house, most women don't think living with a teenaged nephew and a gushing sister-in-law worth the trouble.

 _But Veronica's different._

He furrows his brow, willing his mind to stop.

Sure, she's still very attractive. Sure, they're both currently unattached. And yes, he almost kissed her twice tonight - and he still wants to.

But with two extra decades between now and the time he first met her, he's learned to anchor his impulsiveness with a healthy dose of common sense. He has an administration to answer to, a young man to help raise, and a household to care for - would it even be fair to drag her into this?

 _What if she wants to be?_

Logan sighs again, his eyes admiring the lively spirit in her eyes. Neither of their bodies have escaped the toil of time; his muscle pains after each school camping trip will tell you that. But with her ever-vivacious smiles and snark, she could still pass for a college teen. She's so fresh, so exuberant - has so much of her life ahead of her.

 _And who am I to get in the way of that?_

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The master of ceremonies bellows over the speakers again. "Don't forget to head to the registration booth to tap in your votes! Remember, participating members get the chance to win - courtesy of Embom Airlines - two VIP tickets to the tour premiere of XStarters!"

Female squeals hit the roof as half of the girls on the dance floor drop their partners to scramble towards the voting booth. Logan raises an eyebrow, only to meet Veronica's eyes - her eyebrows equally raised. He smiles and walks back to sit on the chair next to her.

"Sorry that took a while." He hands over her drink.

"Thanks." She smiles. "Any idea who the XStarters are?"

Logan shrugs. "Boy band of the month?"

She chuckles and tilts her head towards the jumpy students. "Oh, wait till they hear the devastating news of their disbandment."

"Right - and how it all went wrong after that internal feud over a girl."

"Mm hm." She nods and shifts to her ditzy, young voice, right hand clutching her heart dramatically. "Can't believe we'll never see them all together again!"

"It's tragic." He shakes his head sagely.

"Unbelievable."

"But don't worry, Snookums." He leans over with a comforting smile. "I'm sure they'll have a reunion tour by the time we're fifty."

"Oh! And we'll bring _all_ our friends to see them! It'll be just like old times!"

"And our daughters can make faces at how gross it is that mommy used to find those people hot!"

"Like _so_ gross."

"But they really are hot!" Logan insists, smirk intact.

That's when they both give up trying and break into real, thorough laughs.

Veronica was the first to stop chuckling with a sigh. "Circle of life, people."

His eyes follow the up-and-down movement of her hand on her own knee for a quick second. He smiles. "Nothing new under the sun."

"Nope," she concurs. Her smile turns wistful. "Remember when _we_ thought homecoming was the highlight of our entire life?"

"Yup, no song unsung, no wine untasted."

She quirks a brow. "Les Mis? Really?"

Logan shrugs bashfully. "It's easier to get them interested in the book that way."

She laughs.

 _I like this Veronica._

"You never showed up to homecoming the year after that."

He's pulled out of his thoughts by her statement.

"Oh - yes." He thinks back to his drunken, lonely grieving on the beach that night in the blurry, distant past. It's a miracle no one found him face-down in the ocean the morning after. "It - it just didn't feel right, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess." She lowers her eyes.

"Did you go?"

"Huh?" Her eyes look almost teary for a moment, before she blinks the moisture away. "Uhm, yeah - I went with Troy. And Wallace and his date."

He nods, suddenly imagining alternate realities.

"But I stopped to think of Lilly."

He looks at her. "What do you mean?"

She seems to blush for a moment. "You know that one question of our 'I Never' game that only I drank to?"

A forgotten dream starts to re-emerge in his subconsciousness.

"About - skinny dipping?"

She smiles back shyly. "Yeah. I just couldn't forget that, you know?"

"Right," he mutters, his mind still racing.

 _No, it can't be._

"So on the way to school, I told the limo to stop right at the beach," she continues, eyes starry. "I warned Troy and everyone else to stay put."

"Okay?"

 _It can't be._

"And when I was far away enough, I pulled off that red satin dress - "

 _It can't be - can it?_

He feels the air pull out of his lungs.

"And I waded into the ocean in nothing but my skin."

He can't breath, long-buried visions coming to life once more in his mind.

"And you know what, Lo? It was great. It was - "

He interrupts her by bursting into a woeful, confused laugh.

"Logan?"

He closes his eyes as he scrambles to breathe again. A few seconds later, he turns to her with a hesitant smile. "Remember the night you came back from New York after graduation?"

She looks puzzled by the change in topic, but answers anyway, "Yes, of course - why?"

"That, uhm." He swallows. Then glancing around to ensure their privacy, he leans close to her ear. "That may not have been the first time I saw you naked, after all."

The recognition in her wide eyes when he pulls back shows how thoroughly she understood.

"No way!" She looks more shocked than upset. "And you never thought to mention it?"

He shrugs, smile on his lips and relief in his veins at her amicable response. "I thought I'd imagined it."

"You imagined me - " She shakes her head, incredulous. "You know what, fine - guess that's how it was meant to be."

"Meant to be?" His throat feels a tad tighter.

"You know - remembering Lilly - together." She shakes her head, fingers toying with her hem again. "I should've figured you might've been on the beach that night too."

He relaxes as he sees her laugh.

 _Who says the past always has to be hurtful?_

"Mr. Echolls! Miss Mars!" The two of them turn to the sound of pattering high-heeled feet.

"Yes, Valentina?" He moves to stand up.

"Seaver and Drey and Lilly," the student pants, chest heaving under her pale yellow dress. "Could you please come and help? Please?"

The two teachers follow her in an instant.

* * *

"She came to homecoming _with me_!"

"But that doesn't mean she can't _kiss_ me!"

A folding table, along with half a dozen empty plastic cups, tumbles behind them as fists and forearms press together in a forceful deadlock.

"You think you have a shot at her? You're nothing but a distraction, baller boy."

"And you're just a ticket to a free limo ride!"

Moving sideways, the boys almost trip over a loose microphone wire.

"Well, at least I have a limo." Seaver grasps his opponent's collar tighter; Drey grabs at Seaver's tuxedo just as hard. "You don't think she's actually gonna want to take off this thrift shop suit, do ya?"

Groaning, Drey shoves Seaver further back towards the wall.

"Seaver! Drey! Enough!" Logan's voice makes the two teens stop walking, their fists still clinging to each other. Logan stalks over and physically separates them, not unlike Clemmons used to do for him.

"What's going on?" Logan demands.

The boys, breathing heavily, merely glare at each other.

"What happened?" Veronica catches up, standing next to the two girls witnessing the fight. She looks at the one right next to her first. "Valentina?"

"I don't know, Miss Mars. They were only yelling when I went to get you guys."

Veronica frowns. "Lilly?"

On Valentina's other side, Lilly leans all her weight on one high-heeled foot, an arm on her lifted hip. She blows on the fingernails of her free hand in the universal girl gesture of 'I don't care.'

"Lilly, were you here all this time?"

The heiress shrugs, rolling her eyes.

"Why didn't you stop them?" Veronica turns until she's fully facing the two female students, hands on her own hips. "Did you actually think it was _fun_ to watch two guys fight over you?"

Still no response.

Veronica shakes her head, appalled. "How narcissistic could you get?"

Ready to launch into a lecture about everything that once caused the original Lilly Kane to lose her own life, Veronica finds herself interrupted by the feel of Valentina's small hands on her forearms.

"Miss Mars, please. I think she's sorry. You don't have to blame her. It was the boys who started it themselves."

Veronica glances at the contriteness in Valentina's eyes for a quick moment before she catches the self-satisfied glint in Lilly's.

 _Utterly unacceptable._

"Ver - Miss Mars?"

She turns at Logan's voice. "Yes - sir?"

"Seems like these two _boys_ need a bit of talking to. You handle the girls?"

She admires his calm, authoritative demeanor for a sliver of a moment.

"Sure. Go ahead."

With a quick nod, Logan grabs both Seaver and Drey by the shoulders and leads them further towards the back of the gym.

"Thank you, Miss Mars."

 _Huh?_

Veronica whips back around at Valentina's voice. "Thank you?"

Two mellow brown eyes look up at hers gratefully. "Yes, I know I shouldn't have disturbed you and Mr. Echolls. I didn't realize that the situation could be easily handled. I - "

"Wait." Veronica cuts in. "Why are you thanking me?"

Valentina lowers her eyes.

"For letting us off easy, _Miss Mars,_ " Lilly scoffs, slurring her letters as she moves slightly closer. She throws her eyes up to the ceiling, fingers flying all around in perfect diva delight. "For the record, _I_ was the reason the boys were fighting. _They_ were the ones who started lunging at each other's throats. And _Princess Valentina_ here was a perfect angel who did no wrong."

"Lilly, please. I didn't - "

"Bup, bup, bup." Lilly silences her friend with a hand in mid-air. "I know you need that perfect conduct grade, girl. It's boring as hell - but you want it."

The shrug Lilly gives and the sigh Valentina lets loose feel strangely familiar.

 _Far too strangely familiar._

"Lilly," Veronica starts, voice level. The teen looks at her in the eye for once. "I'll let you all off with a verbal warning. I know you didn't break any real school rules."

The teacher runs her eyes disapprovingly over Lilly's heretical interpretation of evening wear. "But word of advice? Lots of boyfriends and very little clothing aren't really all they're made up to be."

Lilly shrugs, looking everywhere else again.

Veronica sighs. "Okay, you may go. Enjoy your party - but not too much."

Little Miss Kane prances away without so much as a word.

Veronica shakes her head slowly.

"Thank you, Miss Mars. I hope you enjoy the party too." Valentina offers respectfully before turning to go.

"Wait!"

The young girl turns back in surprise, her shoulders instantly tense. "Miss Mars - am I in trouble?"

 _And this is definitely not the nice version of familiar._

Veronica walks over, hesitates, and then finally places a hand on Valentina's shoulder. "Could I call you Val?"

The girl nods shyly.

"Okay, Val." Veronica huffs before her hands find her hips. "Listen, I just - "

 _Come on, Vee, you've talked down gangsters before._

Veronica sighs. "I just want you to know that things don't always have to be this way."

"This way?"

Veronica fights the urge to shrug.

 _What's so hard about this?_

"Val, I realize you are really good friends with Lilly," Veronica begins.

" _Best_ friends, actually."

"Okay, _best_ friends." Veronica mumbles.

 _Man, the gangsters were easier._

"And _best_ friends are always very forgiving of each other," she continues.

Valentina nods.

 _Cuz hardened gangsters don't count on you to not screw up their formative years._

Veronica almost groans. "So, uhm - there are lots of stuff that Lilly does that - even if we all know are really, uhm, unhealthy - she just does them anyway, you know?"

The girl nods again.

"But, well - just because Lilly doesn't really care about how much she hurts other people." She pauses, trying hard to separate the two generations in her mind. "It doesn't mean that we have to let her, right? We - we can still stand up to her and call her out on it."

She makes sure to look the student right in the eye. "Before anyone gets really, _really_ hurt."

A fleeting look of confusion gives way in Valentina's face to humble comprehension. She hangs her head.

"I don't blame you, Val," Veronica comforts, hands on the girl's two shoulders now. "I just - I just _know_ you can be so much more if you don't let Lilly Kane walk all over you. So just - just think about it, okay?"

Brown eyes meet blue.

"Okay," the teen complies, small smile on her lips.

Veronica nods, somewhat relieved.

"Now go." She shoves the younger girl back towards the crowd. "Go enjoy yourself - for real. Okay?"

Valentina nods and backs away. Veronica smiles.

"Oh, Miss Mars?"

She looks back at her name. "Yes?"

"Thanks for not going all Echolls on Lilly and me."

"All Echolls?"

 _He's a verb now?_

"Yeah, like - you know, like be really hard on us or be super strict, like Mr. Echolls does."

She could barely stifle the threatening laughter.

"Sure, Val. No problem."

The girl smiles and skips away.

* * *

"Seaver?"

The teenager grunts and pulls his crossed arms closer against his body, face scrunched in a deep frown.

Logan sighs. "Drey?"

This one looks sideways, equally avoiding the teacher's gaze, his deep black curls bobbing.

 _Very well._

"Alright then." Logan shrugs. "We'll see what Principal Stacy says when she hears that - "

"No!" The two rivals react in unison, eyes and hands wide open.

Logan cocks his head and smirks, one hand in pocket. "Looks like we finally agreed. So - Drey, you first. What happened?"

"But he - "

Logan shoots Seaver a stern look, and the teen instantly backs down.

Drey speaks up, voice harsh, "I was on the dance floor when Lilly came over. I danced with her. Then she asked for drink. When I came back with it" - he glances sideways at Seaver - "She kissed me. And then before I know it, Vandergraff's all over me screaming and taunting - "

" _You_ kissed _her_!"

Logan reaches forward, grabbing Seaver by the arms, before he could touch Drey. The brunette huffs, not budging. "Lilly was with _me._ We both asked her to the dance, she said yes to me, she comes with me, so she's leaving with me. And you have no business whatsoever putting those dirty lips all over my girlfriend!"

Drey stands a foot away, fists already clenched. His voice remains level. "Lilly is _not_ your girlfriend."

"How dare you? You - "

"He's right," Logan barks. Both boys turn to face him, surprised.

Logan glances firmly at Seaver until he stops pulling forward. The teacher lets go.

For two seconds, he fights the urge to shake his head at the utter immaturity on display.

 _But who am I to talk?_

"Seaver, you realize that punching Drey isn't gonna make Lilly any more faithful."

The brunette sulks back, chest still heaving. His face angles down, but his eyes glance up at Logan's towering frame.

"You've seen Lilly at school, flirting with every breathing creature. And you don't want to believe that she would have the nerve to kiss someone else at a dance?"

Both boys shift their weight awkwardly.

"Come on, you guys can do better than that."

Four eyes look up at him, and then down in contemplation again. Was he just as stubborn at their age?

 _But you never had any adult help - they do.  
_

"You both deserve better," he counsels, eyes compassionate. "And honestly? What's a homecoming date anyway? She doesn't have to be the love of your life."

He glances behind them - just for a moment - before turning back around.

"And for all you know, the _actual_ love of your life could be in this very room at this very moment." He smiles. "And you're just too blinded to see her."

* * *

"Hey, we're - "

He stops at the sight of the small blonde figure curled up in the passenger's seat. Logan smiles.

 _She'll never outgrow the word 'petite.'_

Staying up cramming or making out may have been their game a few years back, but they're definitely on the tired adult side of things now. His smile grows wistful as she curls up tighter against the beige leather, seatbelt twisted multiple times around her right arm.

He places a hand on her shoulder and whispers gently, "Veronica?"

She stirs then, taking a few seconds to regain her senses, before unraveling herself back to a seated position.

"We're here?" Her question comes out in a half-yawn.

He grins. "Unless you've changed your address?"

She peeks outside the window at the grey suburban house. "Nope, still dear old daddy's front porch."

"He still has that telescope?"

"With two daughters in the house? Heard he just upgraded to a Browning M2 as a companion piece."

They both laugh.

She sighs, still smiling. "I like this."

"This?" He quirks a brow.

"Yeah, you know." She keeps her eyes on the windshield. "Being relaxed, being funny - life in the Bureau could be - well, intense."

 _She's not talking about you, silly._

He nods.

"You're glad you came back?" He opts for politeness.

"Yeah." She shrugs. "No better place to take a break than home, right?"

She whips around to face him, smile intact.

 _Let's just ignore that shattering noise at the back of my mind for a moment._

He manages to smile back. "Right - of course. Hope you're enjoying your stay?"

"You're not my travel agent, Logan."

He smiles sheepishly, watching her shyly as she opens her mouth to speak only to have her lips stretch involuntarily into a yawn.

"Bed time?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, slightly blushing. "Thanks for the ride tonight, by the way."

"No problem. Walk you to the door?" He moves to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"It's fine." Her hand flies over his.

 _Please don't notice the embarrassing shaking._

"Thanks, Logan." She smiles up at him, leaning unexpectedly close. "I had fun."

He nods. "See you at the lounge?"

"Wouldn't miss it." She beams back, still not moving away.

 _It's junior high all over again._

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. Her quick blink and smile indicate it was the right call. "Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight, Veronica."

* * *

 _A/N: Deep and heartfelt thanks to everyone who encouraged me with their follows, favorites, and reviews. Your support keeps me going! Someone once told me that my stories tend to all read like one-shots - very straightforward and plot-driven. This type of world-building, character-driven tale is very unusual for me. So thank you for bearing with me as I experiment with a new genre!_

 _Lots of love and thanks to irma66 for checking my multitude of writing errors. She puts up with so much in a stubborn writer like me. And I promise that "Boring" really is a last name. It's amazing what kind of names come up in a college yearbook :)_


	4. The Science of Heredity

He walks over slowly as he watches her, coffee precariously balanced on her lap, shifting her shoulders deeper into the soft cushions of the lush recliner. She sighs audibly, eyes closed and limbs relaxed.

 _Nothing like mornings in a luxury lounge with a beautiful blonde._

He leans against the arm of the chair beside her.

"Morning bagel?" He lifts the brown paper bag in hand.

She smiles, eyes still closed. "Toasted sesame?"

"Yup."

"Extra cream cheese?"

"Don't you know it."

Her eyes pop open, glistening orbs of aquamarine. Her lips quirk upwards. "I could get used to this."

 _Let's hope you do._

He hands over the paper bag with a smile. "Veronica Mars - ever unpredictable - except when it comes to food."

She scoffs in mock offense, hands already reaching into the bag, its rustling sound loud and clear in the quiet room.

"Nothing for yourself?" She asks, mouth half full.

 _Uhm, let's see - a kiss?_

Logan shakes his head, more to himself than in answer. "Nah, got a first period class today. Don't like to lecture on a full stomach."

"This will hardly make you full, Lo," she half-speaks and half-swallows the last piece of her bagel, licking the cream cheese off her fingertips between words. It's always been crazy how fast she makes food disappear, and he realizes then that FBI probably only sped up the process.

"Speaking from experience?" He asks casually.

"Well, if any of my former male colleagues were a fair indication of an average male breakfast appetite," she points out, coffee cup in hand, while doing a once-over of his stature. "I'd estimate at least half a dozen eggs and plenty of bacon?"

Logan laughs, his hands pressing casually on the leather beside him. "Not everyone eats like a cop, Veronica."

"So teachers don't eat?"

"Oh, we eat plenty." He laughs. He gives Wallace an upward nod as he enters the lounge with a couple more teachers. "But the eating usually happens over a desk piled with grading sheets more than a breakfast table."

"Breakfast table? Aren't we domestic."

He smiles. "You'll be amazed what a teenage boy does to you."

"Cuz I'm sure Orlando utterly prides himself in having a gorgeous kitchen counter and a cozy breakfast nook."

They both laugh.

"What's your place like anyway?"

He looks up at her question.

 _Is she actually asking about my place?_

"Grey, big, and lots of windows." Wallace chimes in as he settles down on a nearby seat. "Quite the view of the ocean too."

"And my stepbrother knows this - how?" She quirks a brow at Logan. "Some unofficial faculty party I should know about?"

The English teacher grins, suddenly shy. "We may have had a couple of video games marathons last year."

"Nothing like taking a state-of-the-art gaming system for a good test run," Wallace concludes, obviously happy at the memory.

Logan observes Veronica's amused grin as he and Wallace share a fist bump over her head.

 _Should I ask her?_

"Vee, you should totally come with us next time." Wallace beats him to it. "Logan's place is sweet, girl."

He's almost too nervous to look at her. He does anyway.

"Sure." She smiles up at Wallace, and then at him. "If I may?"

 _You really think you have to ask?_

"Anytime." He smiles back.

"Alright, people! Emergency announcement!"

All three friends sit up straight at the powerhouse lady's entrance. She snaps her fingers to turn on the screen. Immediately, the home page of the _Neptune Herald_ glares blatantly at them in high-definition wonder.

"Neptune High Students Caught in Steroids Drug Ring," the headline announces. He could sense Veronica stiffening beside him.

"I believe the title is quite self-explanatory." Principal Stacy crosses her arms, grey dress suit scrunching at the elbows. "And unfortunately true, as well. The sheriff's department have arraigned seniors Gregory Arnolds and Philip Steinbeck this past weekend when they came in contact with middleman Justin Burk at the Blue Heart Gym downtown. The good news is, they will be charged as juveniles."

Murmurs filled the room, mixtures of disappointed sighs and 'I knew it' condemnations. Logan glances down at his half-empty cup, throat tight. Greg and Philip were never star students, but he'd have gladly spent extra time counseling them last year if he'd known where they were spending their spare time and cash.

"The bad news is," the principal continues. All eyes jump to the front. "The boys insist they weren't getting the drugs for themselves - but for another student."

 _Okay?_

"We have no evidence that this imaginary student exists, since all the steroids were accounted for at the scene. But just in case, let's be on alert."

A story Veronica once told him clicks into place. He turns to face her; she's already facing him.

"Miss Mars?"

They break their gaze for her to turn to Principal Stacy. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Given your experience and schedule, I assign you to take charge of the investigation. And _The Navigator_ will run an article in this week's issue to clarify everything, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright." The principal doesn't miss a beat. "Five minutes to first period. See you tomorrow."

The talking begins even before she's out the door. Logan sighs.

"Logan?"

He turns to her. "Yeah?"

"Do you think - "

"Like father, like son?"

She nods, frowning.

He sighs, shrugs, and shakes his head simultaneously. "I don't know, Vee. I hope not?"

"Yeah," she responds, voice quiet. "Guess we'll just have to find out."

* * *

"Misdirection - it's a plot device, a trick, a ploy, or an art, by some definitions." He flips the pen in a final twirl, leaning back against the desk to drive home his point. He puts on a frown. "But why? Why do you think authors bother using misdirection at all, if the audience wants what it wants? Why not go directly to the point?"

Hands fly up.

"Yes, Orlando." Logan smiles.

"Isn't misdirection, like, something people do to make the story longer?" Orlando drawls.

"Like you do your essays?"

The class giggles as Orlando blushes at Sheila's comment. Logan fights the urge to grin.

"Well, Sheila, what do _you_ think, then?" He leans his head to the side in invitation of her answer.

"Me?" Sheila shrugs, blond hair bobbing. "I think it has more to do with emotional payoff, you know? Cuz, like, yeah, the audience wants what it wants. But if the author kinda shows them what they _don't_ want for a short while, then they feel even happier for getting what they _do_ want at the end, right?"

"Great point." Logan smiles, every bit a proud teacher. "Literature is emotional, and leading reader emotions in one direction, only to conclude the story in another, is a way to generate a higher level of satisfaction at the end of a tale. Anyone else?"

Half the class shrugs.

"Drey?"

The basketball player looks up, eyes blank. "I dunno. I'm with Orlando on this one."

"Okay, sure. Valentina?"

"I think - Sheila's correct?" The sweet, small voice replies.

 _I have got to get this discussion going._

"Okay, that's fine." Logan pull up straight and extends his arms in a general invocation pose. "Any other thoughts on misdirection _except_ for making stories longer and building emotional payoff?"

The class stills. One hand shoots up.

Logan turns up, hopeful, until he recognizes the hand's owner. He tries not to furrow his brows _too_ hard. "Yes, Seaver?"

"You know, Mr. E, it's not that hard to figure out," Seaver quips, slouched halfway down his seat. His eyebrows ride up. "Misdirection only works because people are willing to believe it. Does it even matter _why_ the author uses misdirection? I mean, isn't it all in what the audience is willing to believe?"

 _Am I reading too much into this?_

Logan forces a polite teacher smile. "Yes, misdirection only works when what the author intends matches up with what the audience infers. But it has been used in a variety of ways."

He pulls up straight and starts to pace towards the electronic boards on the side, eyes alternating between supervising the class and Seaver Vandergraff. "In Western literature, misdirection was perceived early on as something comedic, as shown in _Twelfth Night_ and even _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. In Asian literature, however, misdirection is often considered strategic and fatal, as shown in the fable of the tiger and the mountain."

He pauses right in front of the wall and spins to look straight at the students - particularly one. "And if that's the case, wouldn't author intent be a much more grave element?"

"Only because the enemies were stupid enough to be fooled."

"Excuse me?" Logan steps closer. Students stiffen; Seaver remains in his nonchalant pose.

"Look, Mr. E. In the case of the tiger - "

"It's _Mr. Echolls_."

Seaver's eyes make a roller coaster loop. "Fine, _Mr. Echolls_. I just still believe that misdirection only works because people are willing to believe what they're shown and told. Whether the results are funny or fatal isn't really the point."

 _A teacher always stays in control._

"And your point is?"

"My point is that audiences are generally stupid." Seaver moves his jaw as if chewing gum. "I mean, we just believe whatever is right in front of us, you know. It doesn't always have to be that."

"Okay, so you are implying that multiple readers come to the same conclusions about stories _because_ we're all gullible?"

"I dunno, I mean - " Seaver shrugs. "Maybe it's just because we all believe what our high school English teachers say?"

For a split second, Logan almost chuckles. "Are you implying that I am repeating my teacher's rhetoric - and his teacher's before him?"

Seaver shrugs and twirls a pen. "I mean - you obviously liked English class enough to want to become a high school English teacher."

Logan raises his brows.

 _Vandergraffs - love 'em or hate 'em?_

* * *

"Again, Mac, I am not ' _staying here forever_.'"

"Yeah, sure. You'd much prefer working with chauvinistic, sweaty field agents in a dark office than chilling in a luxurious lounge with your hunky ex-boyfriend," Mac mutters over the line.

Veronica sighs, feet still propped up on the lush recliner, and presses her cellphone closer to her ear. "I'm not going back to the FBI."

"Right, right, because it was _so intense_ ," Mac mocks over the phone. "And a new job in an A-level security team in NYC won't be."

Veronica grumbles as she shifts up to a seated position. "What are you implying, girl?"

"That I have a wonderful life with a fascinating job, an excellent coffee business, and a socialite wedding in six months' time. And you, my friend, are just jumping from the pot to the frying pan," she states matter-of-factly, typing sounds in the background.

"Just because my life isn't as _boring_ as yours right now doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with it." She slides off the seat to return her empty coffee cup. "If I remember correctly, I'm the one calling about hacking help."

Mac laughs. "Right - sure. I can tell you just loathe your current job."

"Mac!"

"Veronica!"

The blonde grumbles again. "Are you or are you not gonna tell me what you got?"

"Are you or are you not gonna jump back in bed with Logan Echolls?"

"Cindy MacKenzie!"

Veronica freezes for a moment as she feels all six eyes left in the lounge turn at her outburst. She shrugs apologetically; they turn back away.

She moans.

 _And Mac is still laughing. You have got to be kidding me._

"Had enough fun yet?" She mutters into the microphone.

"Almost." Mac's laughter starts to subside. "You have no idea how easy it is to rile you up, Mars."

"By changing the topic, sure. You know I'm goal-oriented."

"And very bad at deviating," Mac counters, the keystrokes in the background getting fewer and farther in between. "You know it only takes two words to make you jumpy."

"Solving crime?"

"Those two make you awake, and I can't believe you're still trying to deny it."

"Deny what?"

"Really, Veronica?"

She shrugs as she exits the lounge. "I'm not denying anything."

Mac sighs. "I'm not helping anyone who can't be honest with herself."

"What?" Veronica demands, leaning sideways on the curving corridor. Her eyes dart in random directions. "What does this have to do with the case at all?"

"I'm not a hacker - you know that. I just know how to hack. And I refuse to let my skills be used by someone who can't even face the reality of her own heart."

"Heart, Mac? Engagement made you soft."

"Maybe it did." Her grin is strangely audible. "But admit it, Veronica - you like your job, and you like your colleagues - particularly the tall, lanky, English one."

"He's just being friendly." Her fingers find the edge of her leather jacket. "It's nice, but there's nothing going on."

"Said President Bill Clinton."

"Mac, come on - "

"Fine, fine. If you want to believe his intentions are all friendly, then who am I to judge? God knows how confusing things are with you two."

 _And I couldn't agree more._

Veronica hears two distinct key strokes and a satisfied sigh.

"Anyway, got those messages for ya."

"Yes?" Veronica straightens up.

"Gregory Arnolds, using the screen name BlueMarble, messaged Barkley15 two days before he was arrested."

Black heels hit tiles repeatedly as she picks up the pace down the hall. "Yeah?"

"Message as of 10:15 p.m. says: 'Got the goods. You paying?' And Barkley15 replies: 'tomorrow.'"

"Who's Barkley15?"

"You tell me," Mac mutters. "But the night after that, BlueMarble messages again: 'got the cash. your never alone after class. where to drop?'"

"They bring it to school." Veronica inhales.

"Not too smart, I know."

"Anything after that?" Veronica turns into the main building.

"Just one more reply from Barkley15: '252. Tnx.'"

She stops at the top of the long, straight path towards the school entrance.

"What's 252, Vee?"

"A locker number. Thanks, Mac."

"Anytime."

And the programmer hangs up.

For almost half a minute, Veronica stands still, eyes roaming over the long row of neat, silver lockers - refurbished material contrasting awkwardly with the original hues of the walls and floor. Her eyes rest on the sprawling school logo ten meters away.

 _Drug deals and locker searchers - what's new?_

Tentatively, she places one foot in front of the other.

Locker 252 - that should be easy, right?

She swallows as she reaches the correct row, the morning sun still barely filtering through the high windows as the low murmur of first hour lectures rumble through the walls. She lifts a hand to the first locker, its metal touch triggering a wave of nostalgia.

In the field for the past ten years, she's always loved the hunt - particularly its closing moments. There's always been nothing quite like the thrill of finally accosting the villain, finally uncovering that last piece of the puzzle of information. The adrenaline that accompanied the end of a hunt was - intoxicating.

She inhales as her trailing fingers reach the twelfth locker on the row. She stops.

 _Then why does this feel so terrible?_

An image of Troy Vandergraff, pre-redemption, flits through her mind. She sees him laughing, flirting, chasing after her down the hall. She smiles.

Then she sees herself - the moment the truth dawned on her, and then the moment she flushed Troy's steroids down the toilet with a self-satisfactory smirk. She smiles wider.

Her hands touch the combination lock.

Her mind shifts again, and she sees Seaver. She sees his smirk as he saunters in during journalism, she sees his grin at homecoming, and she sees the misguided passion in his eyes as he pants - fists still clenched - at Drey.

She sighs.

With near automation, she easily unlocks the locker, the numbers 252 glaring blatantly at her the entire time. She bites her lip as she slowly pulls the locker door open.

The locker is mostly empty, with only a pair of sneakers and a small stack of books on its shelves. Eyes scanning all over, she tiptoes to peek at the top shelf. She reaches for the folded yellow cooling towel. She unfolds it.

Next to the printed school emblem, the number 15 lies in clean, green font.

She catches her breath as the truth hits.

 _Oh, Wallace._

* * *

"I'm not sure what I'm doing here."

Logan and Veronica exchange glances at the student's protests. They both lower their line of vision, he behind the desk and she as she leans against the wallpaper. She takes a quick moment to catalog the neat row of small, framed photos on Logan's desk. From Charlie to Orlando - it's all family.

She almost smiles.

"Mr. Echolls, Miss Mars," Drey pleads.

They both look up again. Logan gives her a 'take-it-away' nod.

She blinks and places the towel on the desk. "Drey, could you explain why your towel, books, and sneakers were found in locker 252?"

The student hesitates for a moment, then stands up straight again, looking her straight in the eye. "I - I'm sorry, Miss Mars. I know we're only allowed to rent one locker per year. But this one wasn't being used, and it's so much closer to the gym."

"And you've been using it since when?"

Drey sighs. "A while - maybe two months?"

She turns to Logan. His jaw is set, his face grim. "And your other locker?"

"I - I use it too."

Logan nods. She follows suit.

A quick knock and a squeaky door hinge interrupt the silence.

All three individuals face the entrance.

"I'm a little confused if I'm being called in as a teacher or a parent here," Wallace quips, smiling, as he takes in the attendance. He eases in to the office and plops down on the closest chair. "What's up, guys? I've got rosters to schedule, you know."

Logan and Veronica look at each other, again.

 _Could you?_

He hears her wordless question, nods, and faces the latest addition to the party. "Wallace, we called you in because Drey here - has a little explaining to do."

She observes the news sink in on Wallace's face. She sighs.

 _Thank God Lo's got it._

"We've intercepted some messages an hour ago that show Gregory Arnolds in recent contact with an individual who logs on the website from the school's IP address, especially during a junior-level computer class, and goes by the screen name Barkley15."

She watches Drey stiffen physically; his face stays controlled.

 _Impressive, kid._

"According to the messages, the steroids - or whatever was being given in exchange for cash - were to be dropped off in locker 252."

"Okay?" Wallace sits still - too still.

She listens to Logan, still glad he's taking charge.

"But according to student records, 252 should be unoccupied."

"So imagine our surprise," she speaks up then, before stepping over to pick up the towel. "When we find Drey's belongings in 252, with him admitting he's been using it for the past two months."

For two seconds, no one moves or speaks.

"So, Drey." She looks him in the eye, feeling as tall as the towering teenager. "Could you explain the circumstances to us? It seems that - "

The sudden weight of Wallace's body against Drey's, the teacher grabbing his brother by the collar, shocks her silent.

"You _told_ me you would never do it!"

"I didn't! I didn't go through with the transaction! I texted him to call it off!"

"So all that money you asked for - "

"Yes." The student hangs his head before his coach and brother finally releases him. Large feet hit the floor.

The two basketball players pant in the small, heated room.

Brow furrowed, she lets them calm down for just a minute.

 _Oh, Drey._

"Drey." Logan, both hands on his desk, calls him out before she can. "Are you confirming that you did try to make a deal with Greg Arnolds?"

After two excruciating seconds, Drey nods.

Veronica hears Wallace curse for the first time in years.

"Okay," Logan continues. "Did you go through with it?"

Drey shakes his head adamantly, feet straight, though shoulders defeated.

Logan nods.

"When did this happen?"

"I called it off the day after," Drey speaks up for the first time since Wallace released him, voice much smaller than usual. "I realized I couldn't - I shouldn't. I mean, it was wrong - totally wrong."

All three adults nod.

"As your advisor, Drey, I have the right to report this to the administration for putting in your permanent record."

Six eyes look at Logan. The words 'going Echolls' echo in her mind.

"But that's to be decided," Logan states. He stands up and places a surprising hand on her shoulder. She almost jumps. "By Miss Mars."

 _Wait, what?_

She turns to face Logan, confused. "You're the advisor, Lo - Mr. Echolls. You want me to decide this?"

"He's right, Vee." Wallace speaks up. She faces him. "Principal Stacy put you in charge of this. She's gonna want to hear it from you."

For once, the power over a perpetrator's fate doesn't thrill her. She surveys Drey's dejected form.

"Uhm, okay - since Drey here didn't actually go through with the deal." She pauses, unsure. "I don't think putting anything on the permanent record would help."

The teen looks up, eyes hopeful.

She suddenly feels Logan squeezing her shoulder tighter, as if conveying a message. He speaks up besides her, "But as for the intent and the locker abuse - "

"Right," she adds. She turns slightly to keep Logan in her peripheral vision and attempts again, "those actions will not go unpunished."

She looks up directly at Logan then. "What do you suggest, Mr. Echolls?"

Logan nods with a subtle smile, as if approving of her. The slow warmth in her chest corresponds almost immediately.

"Since Coach Fennel can do this without the incident having to reach other faculty members," Logan recommends politely, "I would suggest suspension from the basketball team."

The desperate look that suddenly pervades Drey's face almost has her relenting.

"For three weeks, perhaps?" Logan turns to Wallace, resolute.

To her surprise, Wallace nods in agreement. "That's very fair."

Outnumbered, Drey hangs his head.

"We appreciate your coming clean, Drey." Logan speaks to the student now. "But actions have consequences. And these are yours."

"Okay, sir." Drey responds.

 _Those Fennel manners are still a rare find._

Veronica walks up to the junior. She meets his eyes. "Don't let it happen again, okay?"

Drey nods, eyes guilty.

"Alright, get back to class." Wallace interrupts the moment. He grabs the doorknob himself before turning to face his colleagues. "And thank you guys - for that."

Both Logan and Veronica acknowledge him with a nod.

The brothers excuse themselves from the office. She walks them to the door.

And she stays by the door as the two Fennels walk away in opposite directions.

Veronica sighs.

Somehow, catching the big bad guy in an FBI chase and wanting a repentant student to improve just feel far too different to be requiring the same skills of her.

 _Oh dear, I'm getting maternal._

She shakes her head and moves back towards Logan's office.

"Miss Mars, is everything okay?"

She turns around to meet Valentina's bright brown eyes, etched in worry.

 _Where did she come from?_

"Yes, Valentina. I'm fine. What are you - "

"Oh." She looks down, suddenly shy. "I'm coming back from study hall. I was sick last Friday and couldn't take the science test today."

"Oh, okay - right."

 _Am I supposed to say something?_

"So, uhm - I saw Drey leaving the office just now," she pipes up again. Her fingers fidget with the spiral edge of her notebook. "Is he - is everything okay?"

For a moment, Veronica wonders if she's in a time loop. "Yes, Valentina. It's, uhm - all good."

Both women look at Drey's slumped shoulders disappearing around the corner.

"Did you think you need to know something?" The teacher asks.

"Oh no, not at all." Valentina backtracks, apologetic. "I - I don't think I _need_ or even _deserve_ to know anything. I just care, and I - well, I just wanted to know if he's okay, you know?"

The shyness in her voice convinces Veronica that she's telling the truth.

But if that's true - there's another concern.

"Valentina."

"Yes, Miss Mars?"

She leans her head against the 'Mr. Echolls' plaque on the door, looking sideways at the student. "Why do you keep, uhm - _saving_ your friends? I know you say you care, but - does it always have to be the troublesome ones? You're a good, a very good, student. So - why them?"

The smile that breaks out against her cinnamon skin catches the teacher by surprise. "Well, Dad and Mom always told me to make a difference. So - I try."

The picture forming in Veronica's mind tempts her to smile.

"Is that okay, Miss Mars?"

She looks at Valentina, a sudden benevolence coursing through her veins. She smiles for real. "Absolutely."

* * *

"Forgot something?"

He turns around with a smile, pleasantly surprised at her presence in the twilight-kissed lounge. He waves the folder in his hand in answer to her question. "Apparently, teacher brains don't come with memory boosts. You?"

"Me? Veronica Mars _never_ forgets." She quirks a brow mischievously as she marches to the back of the room, hands instantly working the machinations of the Nespresso machine. "It's more of a _new routine_ , one could say."

He can't help chuckling, his lips involuntarily slipping into a genuine smile. She just somehow looks so - _cute -_ in her teacher get-up of tucked-in shirt, grey skirt, and knee-high boots. It's almost like his Veronica all grown up.

 _My Veronica._

He lets out a very slow breath.

"So, today was my first introduction to you going all Echolls." She turns around, cup and saucer in hand, and leans back against the counter. "And man, the plebians don't lie."

 _Huh?_

"Going Echolls?" He repeats, confused.

Veronica laughs, ever bewitching, and takes a sip. "Right, of course they don't say it to your face."

"Should I be getting scared right now?" He takes a casual step forward. "Cuz you knowing more than I do is not one of my favorite things from growing up."

She laughs again, blonde hair shaking.

 _Beautiful mind with a youthful soul._

"I got thanked at homecoming for not 'going all Echolls' on certain students," she explains, eyes smiling. "And that figure of speech was, apparently, no longer a euphemism for flirty and smug."

"Smart and cocky?"

"You wish!"

They both laugh. He shoves a hand in his pocket.

"Logan Echolls a disciplinarian? I never would have guessed." She steps closer, face lit with familiarity and ease. "Any reason why you're known for defining the word 'strict' around here?"

He can't help but relent at the sincere curiosity in her eyes. "It's not about being strict, really. It's about being fair."

She frowns - the confused version. He smiles.

"Growing up with unlimited money, inconsistent standards, and frenzied media attention," - he pauses, a pang of wistfulness flits by - "life was always full of extremes. And looking back now, it's - it just wasn't healthy."

He looks at her. She nods fractionally, entranced.

 _You've told multiple administrators. You can tell her._

He inhales. "There are days - very often, actually - when I wonder if the path I took to get here wouldn't have had to be as difficult if the right people had said the right things to me at the right time. And, well, I guess - that's the same thing I want to do for them."

He looks at her again. This time, her brow furrows, and she breathes in shallow waves.

He lowers his eyes.

"Of course, I'm not saying that I'm the mentor who will magically forge their paths into their proper destiny or anything" - he grins, sheepish, at his own dramatic word choice - "I just - I just want them to know that they don't have to be doomed to anything based on the lot they're born into."

He meets her eyes. "Life's never about heredity - it's about the choices we make for ourselves. And if they learn early enough that the good, and the bad, will lead to corresponding, consequential results - then maybe - maybe they'll be able to work life out better then my first hand at it, you know?"

By the time he finishes, she's standing a mere foot away, coffee cup abandoned on a random end table. She reaches out, and he pulls up straight. Wordlessly, she coils her arms around his waist and pulls her face snugly against his chest.

His right palm rests over her shoulder blade, his fingers curling across the tip of her shoulder. He leans his head close, nose in her hair.

She squeezes him.

He smiles.

* * *

 _A/N: Here we go! My heartfelt thanks to everyone reading this story, and a huge shoutout to irma66 for helping me edit these big chapters. Please do leave a review! It may not show up on the site for now, but it shows up in my inbox. And I'm sure FF will have them up again some time soon. Hope you liked this chapter!_


	5. Socioeconomic Studies

"Alright, people, listen up!"

Heads grow two inches taller all across the lounge.

"Tomorrow is the day, and we have _got_ to get something done." Principal Stacy leans over the short podium, a fully-charged pack of human battery. "Pan High hosted their Career Day last week and social media took off in flames."

She gesticulates towards the collage of Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook posts all over the screen behind her. "'Pan High hosts career day of the decade,' 'THIS is what I'm talking about #realLIFE,' 'Pan High teachers are the cooooolest #bestdayofschoolever #realLIFE,' and even 'if this is #realLIFE, man, I wanna be a teacher,'" she reads impatiently. She turns around, arms crossed. "And that last one is from the school delinquent."

A hush falls over the entire room. Veronica leans forward, peeking at her companions. Both men sit stone-faced; she follows suit.

"So," Principal Stacy humphs the word with grand finality, hands slamming down on the podium, "tomorrow is going - to - be - _epic_."

A few heads nod, the rest stay still.

 _Who says bullies end with high school?_

Veronica licks her lips.

"I have here a list of booths that the student council has set up in preparation for tomorrow. Each booth represents a field of study - specific careers are too narrow-minded, after all. Formerly, teachers were assigned as chaperones and tasked to make sure nothing untoward happens." She walks towards the center, the projector images distorted all over her forehead. " _This_ year, we're going to be every bit involved."

The silence continues - reverential.

"I've reshuffled some assignments, so listen up, people! First up, science and engineering, Wallace Fennel, Alfred Lucas, Annalyn Marston, Victor Ortego, Doris Pinkerton, and Marlene Tan."

The room relaxes slightly as teachers, coaches, and administrators await their fate. A few grunts, a couple of whimpers, and a giggle or two pop up sporadically throughout the room.

"Arts! Louisa Abrera, Logan Echolls, Barry James Lee, Gregory Rhodes, Amy Rice, and Stephanie Zellman."

Veronica looks at the English teacher perched on the edge of her chair. He looks back with a smile and a shrug. "A guy can't be artsy?"

"Depends if we're talking culinary skills or wardrobe." She smiles, complete with head tilt.

Logan chuckles. "I happen to _always_ top the best-dressed teachers list."

"Oh yeah, because the competition must be _so very tough_."

They both laugh.

"Veronica Mars, Devon McBride, and Haley Summers." Principal Stacy's orders re-emerge into her consciousness.

"Wait, what?" Veronica whispers. To her right, Wallace chuckles from a neighboring chair, the principal drones on in the background.

"Social studies, girl," Wallace repeats for her. "Guess you'll be doing lots of counseling."

Her face scrunches into a frown.

 _Social sciences - what do they even plan for her to do?_

"What part of this says 'therapist' to you?" She whispers hoarsely in Logan's direction, pointing circularly at her own face.

He shrugs. "Beats me, unless it's the 'you must tell me every last thing you know' interrogator stare?"

He winks; she smiles.

"So there you go, folks." The principal plants herself behind the podium again. "I expect you to be at your booths at 8:30 tomorrow morning, dressed in full costume, armed with props, and ready to take those selfies with the students. Remember, #bestcareerfairever. It's ten minutes to first period. Let's go!"

* * *

Squeals, yelps, hoots, and catcalls bounce off the myriad of horizontal surfaces down the hallway. Left and right, students and faculty march in their own interpretations of different career tracks. And, for once, she fits right in.

She tugs at her ID strap self-consciously. Dressed with flats and an office-grade-boring pencil skirt, she can't help feeling rather small in the bustling crowd.

"Hey there."

She looks up at the sight of Logan Echolls, English teacher, leaning sideways on the lockers, arms crossed and smile sparkling. A wave of nostalgia covers her senses at the sight of him in his midnight grey T-shirt and cargo pants, random paint splatters all over.

She smiles. "Starving artist?"

"Waiting for my visit from the welfare inspector."

He pulls up with a smile of his own. Her smile grows deeper.

He cocks his head towards the gym with a questioning glance. She nods, and they fall in step side by side.

All around them, students scream and skirmish, basking in the hyperactivity of a non-class school day.

"Oh, excuse me," Veronica blurts when an impatient freshman bumps her elbow in his rush to hit the decorated gym. The kid barely turns to apologize, but Logan's by her side in an instant, supporting her with large hands on her biceps.

"You okay?" He sounds far too concerned over a simple stumble, brow crumpled under his spiked hair.

"Oh yeah, fine and dandy." She offers a smile as she rights herself. His hands fall away in proportionate timing.

 _More than fine and dandy, actually._

She forces herself not to giggle. It's embarrassing to feel almost giddy at the proximity of a teenage-looking Logan.

"So - you just pulled this out of the closet?" Still walking, she turns to see him gesturing at her button-down, tucked-in, black-skirt ensemble. "Never found you uncreative with costumes before."

The side of her lips shift up as her mind time warps to the Halloweens they'd spent together. She'd always gone for the cute and cuddly growing up, until Princess Leia's bikini made an appearance in college. One glance at the blush on Logan's face tells her they're at the same spot on memory lane.

"Sorry, I - "

"You what?" She can't help smiling, eyes teasing.

"Nothing." He shrugs with a quick grin.

She tries desperately to keep from laughing.

"Mr. Echolls." The firm, young, female voice stops them. They both turn to face the small blonde who just emerged on Logan's other side. "Did Orlando tell you which way he's headed? He's assigned to sciences, but I think he just pulled a disappearing act."

Logan grins again, right hand slipping into his pocket. "Did you try where _you_ were assigned?"

A wave of recognition crosses Sheila's face, followed by a modest blush. She lowers her head slightly, smiles, and shrugs. "Thanks, Mr. Echolls."

"No problem."

The two teachers watch her scurry away with silly smiles of their own.

"Not checking on your nephew anymore?" She asks as they turn a corner.

"I think she's doing that for me now." He gestures casually at Sheila's retreating form.

Veronica laughs. "Nothing like a spunky blonde to keep a teenage boy in check, huh?"

The laugh that he responds with sounds almost strained. "Absolutely. He's spending all his spare time with her now, much to his mother's chagrin."

"Trina still doesn't like her?"

"More like she still prefers Lilly for him. Delusional, if you ask me."

"Oh?" She raises a brow as they finally hit the open gym entrance.

"Sassy heiresses have their charms." He pauses and turns his entire body to face her. "But it's the smart little ones that steal your heart."

He backs away with a wink.

* * *

Career Day.

 _Does no one else find this ironic?_

She leans forward on the crepe-paper-bedecked desk, eyes wandering over the gym landscape of buzzing teenagers, teachers, and parents. On one side, there's the race to inherit and squander millions of dollars before you turn twenty-five. On the other, there's finding out the easiest way to earn or swindle those millions away from their heirs before rent is due. Career Day in Neptune - just another word for false hope?

She sighs, pessimism fast condensing over her.

"Miss Mars?"

She looks up to Valentina's gentle smile.

"Mr. Echolls asked me to bring this over. He said the arts table had too much food."

She glances down at the toasted sesame bagel, extra cream cheese and all.

She beams.

"Thanks, Val."

"No problem." She skips away with a smile of her own.

She lifts the small paper plate and its contents to eye level. Then she stares at it with a look of exaggerated confusion. She hears a stifled chuckle from her far right.

 _I knew you were watching._

With calculated deliberation, she takes a delicious mouthful, moans relentlessly, licks her lips sensually, and then glances over.

The blush on his cheeks is totally worth it. He looks down, looks up, and shifts his weight around for a second before turning to face an approaching parent with a polite smile.

She grins.

 _The 09er of 09ers now a modest high school teacher - who says Career Day has to be a lie?_

She resettles to enjoy her second breakfast. Diving in to cream cheese bliss, she pointedly ignores the noises all around her, #bestcareerfairever be damned.

"What's a pretty teacher like you doing eating bagels all by herself?"

She swallows the last bite before looking up at the line, delivered in all its awkward glory. She frowns.

She stands up. "We've talked about this, Seaver. No talking to teachers as if they're just another student."

"But I don't!" The brunette leans on his right foot, lips smirking. She mentally notes how Orlando pulls off the look much better. "I treat you _better_ than that."

She fights the scoff that's tugging at her tonsils. "Seaver, look, I - "

"So where are we - "

A large hand grips Seaver by the shoulder just as a familiar male voice trails off.

She looks up at the new arrival.

 _Seriously?_

"Veronica Mars!" Troy beams, hand instantly extended. "Fancy seeing you here, big-shot FBI agent."

She shakes the proffered hand diplomatically. Her mind catalogues how the fine lines and lighter hair seem to be the only things different about him. "Hi, Troy, it's been a while."

"As succinct as ever." He winks and smiles. "I'm glad the school board finally saved up enough for the real-life agent cameo paycheck. I think I've been petitioning this for years."

 _Really? You're gonna do this now - in front of your kid?_

She fights the eye roll, but crosses her arms anyway. "Right, I believe your service award is being given out during lunch break."

"Wouldn't miss it." He grins.

"Wait, you guys know each other?" Seaver interrupts.

Both adults face him. The puzzlement on his face appears genuine enough.

Veronica shrugs. "We met each other - at school, before."

The son looks at his father, who nods nonchalantly in response.

"Is this Neptune High or, uhm, somewhere - " Seaver trails off. Veronica lifts a brow at Troy in challenge.

"Yeah, Troy, when _did_ we meet in school?"

"Hearst," Troys blurts out after a second or two. "I studied there for a bit, remember?"

He turns to his son, salesman-certified smile in place.

 _You think your kid's gonna fall for that?_

"Hearst? But Dad, you said that - "

"I met your dad on campus," she sweeps in for the save, sick of the awkwardness. She looks pointedly at father, and then son. "Your dad needed help with a _favor_."

"I never did pay you, did I?"

"I could always charge extra for interest." She looks back at Troy, arms still crossed defiantly. "But we don't want to rehash the past now, _do we_?"

The tentative submission his expression offers is enough for her.

"Right. Come on, Seave." He plants a shoulder on the teenager. "Let's check out the next booth."

They turn around before Troy looks back over his shoulder. "Nice seeing you again, Veronica."

"Of course - Mr. Vandergraff."

He nods and walks his child away.

 _Some things change - but some never._

"Everything okay in the welfare department?"

She smiles involuntarily at the familiar baritone beside her. "More like family counseling office."

"Ah, I _have_ heard that therapists are all the rage recently."

"Big market in Neptune?"

"Absolutely."

They both grin.

A few seconds of comfortable silence tick by.

"You think he still likes you?"

She laughs. " _I think_ he's still a flirt."

She spins around to face him, hands braced against the table behind her. "And I think Trina's rubbed off a bit on you."

"Trina?"

"Since when have you cared when a guy shows interest in a colleague?"

He grins with a shrug. "Ever since I thought that a certified, decorated federal agent would need help warding off unwanted attention? Preferably by a handsome, soft-spoken English teacher posing as a starving artist."

 _This is dangerously close to flirting._

She smiles back.

 _How can I not?_

"Troy is - Troy. He just needs a good talking down, sometimes." She looks over her shoulder at the vague direction where the Vandergraffs disappeared. "He'll always push his luck until he hits a wall."

"The wall seemed pretty close today based on what I saw."

"Ha! He needed to know his place. Who flirts with an ex in front of one's son?"

She didn't expect the shrug he offers. "I dunno, someone who wants to grab every chance he could get, maybe?"

"Nah." She shakes her head with a chuckle. "Just someone really bitter about the past and who hasn't moved on as he should."

"Right - cuz, we should all move on."

"Of course, we - " She pauses, suddenly noticing his observant gaze fixed on her face. She licks her lips. "We should move on - if we have to."

They fall silent for a moment, eyes locked.

"Echolls! Over here!"

Mrs. Zellman's voice breaks their trance. They both look away, down, up, and back down. Her hands tug at her ID strap.

"I should, uhm - "

"Head back - right, absolutely."

They both mumble indistinctly as Logan turns.

"Oh yeah." He looks back at her voice. She smiles. "Thanks for the bagel."

He grins, and it's beautiful. "You're welcome - anytime."

* * *

"Mrs. Zellman, you needed - "

His inquiry is cut short at the foreign sensation of small, girly fingers coiling around his left elbow. He instantly turns and backs away from the touch.

 _You gotta be kidding me._

"She said she was looking for you," Mrs. Zellman explains most unnecessarily from the behind the arts booth, her middle-age hands braiding streamers away.

 _This is what she called me back for?_

He fights the urge to glare at all 63 inches of an under-clad but overly-painted Lilly Kane, giggling insipidly. The way she bats her eyelids at him, hands running up and down the side of her hips, makes his breakfast rush halfway back his esophagus.

"So, Mrs. Echolls." Lilly shoves herself closer. He backs away another step, eyes glaring. "Any tips for a future fashion sensation? I could take some good ol' art advice."

"I'm sure your father is more than capable of finding good art teachers for you." He doesn't bother to sound nice.

She giggles to his face, undaunted. With a blatantly strategic shoulder slouch, she lets her thin yellow T-shirt slip from her collar bone down to her arm, revealing sparkly, glittery skin. Logan inhales.

"On second thought," she muses, still edging forward with malicious smile intact, "maybe I don't want to be the artist. It's boring behind the easel."

He narrows his eyes at her.

"I think I'd rather pose as your model," she concludes with a wicked glint to her eyes. She leans forward at the waist and whispers hoarsely, "You know, the _nude_ kind."

"Lilly!" He warns sternly, ready to dismiss her to the crowds while he dashes behind the booth for safety.

He meets her eyes - fiery as a predatory feline's.

 _There's no telling what she'd scream if I step away._

"Logan, I'm so sorry!"

He barely has time to react before he feels a small, familiar arm anchor around his back, a petite human frame pulling him downwards, and a loud, wet kiss planted on his left cheek.

It takes him three whole seconds to turn.

And there she is - Veronica Mars beaming up at him in all her Amber ditz glory.

He almost sputters out in gleeful amusement, if she hadn't just saved him from the most awkward student encounter he's ever had.

"I swear the new faculty bathroom is too far away. Who knew it would take me five minutes to find it?"

"Cuz finding school bathrooms is just your thing." He finally finds his tongue as he resists the urge to wink at her. She responds with a tighter grip on his waist. His hand rests instinctively on her shoulder.

For another second, he allows himself to just look back into her bright, blue eyes and pretend they're seventeen.

"Uhm, what's going on?"

They turn simultaneously towards a very annoyed Miss Kane.

"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" Veronica speaks immediately, hand still firmly in place. She leans into Logan. "Were you guys talking about something? I'm so sorry. I - "

"You didn't interrupt anything, sweetie," he gives in fully to the charade, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. "Lilly here was just expressing how she has no interest in being an artist."

"Oh, really?" Veronica looks up at him, eyes brimming with hyperbolic adoration.

 _Oh God, it's the Sunset Regent all over again._

"That's too bad. She would have been so good at it," she carries on, undeterred. She lifts her left hand against his chest; he suddenly can't breath. "Too bad Logan isn't a _real_ artist and couldn't help you."

He gives up trying to decide which is more gratifying - Veronica Mars tucked warmly against his side or Lilly Kane fuming and bewildered, _finally_ looking close to giving up her obstinate teacher crush.

Without a word, Lilly huffs and storms away.

 _Well, that was easy._

He relaxes, finally allowing himself to smile. That retreat was a long time coming.

A giggle from his left has him tensing up all over again.

 _Should I let go?_

He looks at her tentatively.

 _She sure isn't._

And neither is she looking away.

He recognizes that glint, that shimmer in her eyes - it's the thrill of success, the triumphant rush of pulling off yet another stunt. At another point in time, when rapists were on the loose, her urge to face problems head on scared him.

But when that same trait is applied to timely deliverance from flirtatious students?

 _It doesn't get sexier than this._

He can't even tell if she's also leaning in.

But he knows he certainly is.

" _She_ totally ruined it! He was talking to me first!"

Lilly's screeching accusation has them jumping apart. His hands find his back pockets.

He looks up at the fuming heiress as she barrels back towards them, her left hand extending behind her as she drags along yet another doting male.

His heart tightens at the sharp inhale he hears to his left.

 _Because, of course._

He nods at the new arrival. "Hey, Duncan."

* * *

"You should've told me!" Duncan's impassioned tone sounds far too dramatic within the constraints of the simple, streamlined office.

Logan fights to keep his sigh inaudible, making sure to keep his eyes diverted from the live reunion scene three feet away.

 _Because I don't need to see the end of what they've started._

He forces his eyes up and down the list of memos on his private bulletin board. One would think the school would be more techie by now. His palms feel damp, and he wipes them against the sides of his jeans.

"It's not like it would've mattered much, Duncan."

He holds his breath.

 _So I'm eavesdropping. Sue me. They needed me for my office, not the other way around._

"I didn't try to keep anything from you, I swear."

"But Lilly knew you were back, and Dick knew, and obviously Logan knew, but you didn't tell me you - "

 _She didn't?_

His heart skips a beat.

"I'm only here for a break, Duncan. It's not a big deal."

"But you're always a big deal to me."

 _Was that a groan?_

Depleted of politeness and overrun by curiosity, Logan turns around to face the couple by the closed door. Hands on her forearms and eyes aflame, Duncan hovers over Veronica, his face wrought with open entreaty.

 _I need to read something more modern sometimes - preferably soon._

He sighs away his language teacher woes to focus on the situation at hand.

"Duncan, please," she responds firmly, "it doesn't matter, okay?"

Logan feels his heart unclench a little as she backs away from his touch.

Duncan, having none of it, presses closer. "Veronica, but you're - you're my everything! Before I left, I told you I loved you - always have, always will. I mean that, Veronica! How could you come back to Neptune and not even bother to - at least you owe me - "

"Duncan!"

She hisses his name like a command - and instantly silences the room.

Logan watches, entranced. He feels his old buddy huffing in a confused mess a yard away.

"Look, Duncan." She steps marginally forward, tone soft and coaxing. "We were in _high school_. And even if I did love you then - way back then, it doesn't mean I still do."

She stands up straight and looks Duncan in the eye. "And telling whomever I want about where I am right now is entirely my prerogative. I owe you nothing."

The two men stand completely still as she takes off for the door. The hinges squeak.

She turns halfway right before she leaves, an awkwardly dramatic move on the usually casual lady. "And by the way, Mr. Kane, you might want to keep a closer eye on your daughter. She needs a father's love."

And then she's gone.

For a handful of seconds, Logan lets the waves of assurance roll over him. She's here, teaching with him and seeing him every day - but she never bothered to get in touch with her first love - the one person he's always believed could pose any real competition for her heart.

Subconsciously, his face shifts to his right towards the only other person in the room.

Leaning against the wall, Duncan holds as still as the moment she stormed out. His head, framed by his usual blue shirt, hangs forward in apparent contemplation. His right hand dangles loosely against his side, and his left holds the edge of Logan's desk for support. The glint off his finger catches Logan's eye.

The sudden rage that zaps through his veins comes as fast as lightning.

"What were you thinking!" Logan cries as he flies across his office, the back of his forearm now pressing Duncan firmly against the wall. "Dude, you're _married_. Have you no idea how irresponsible and inappropriate that conversation was?"

Duncan's blue eyes, blank yet jittery, meet his. "I - I didn't mean - "

"It doesn't matter what you meant." Logan steps back slightly. "It was wrong, okay?"

"Look, Logan, I know you probably don't get it. Veronica, she's - I love her, okay? And it's been so long! I need to know - "

" _You_ need to know that you've made a commitment to Anna," he interrupts. "And you are going to keep that vow."

Logan steps back completely, leaving Duncan to recover his footing and breath.

"And, for the record," Logan speaks, steady yet wistful. "I know _exactly_ how you feel."

* * *

She opens her eyes to the brightening shades inside the napping pod.

 _Has it really been ten minutes already?_

Her eyes may have been closed, but she didn't sleep a single wink.

She sighs. Slowly, she stretches out her limbs and slides back out into the lounge, now basking in sunset orange.

And what do you know, Mr. Orange Pants himself is sitting just a few feet away, elbows on knees as he leans forward casually.

She can't help smiling at the tentative, childlike look in his eyes - like a little boy in trouble.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hey yourself," she responds, still smiling.

"I, uhm - I thought I might find you here."

She drops the smile and nods, reminded once again of why she's hiding where school parents wouldn't be allowed.

"Are you okay?"

She looks up at his question.

 _Am I?_

"Yeah, I am." She shrugs. "I guess I didn't expect seeing Duncan again to be so - intense."

She almost doesn't catch his frown.

"I mean," she adds then, "he - he's a father and he's married and I - I thought he'd be a little more mature, you know?"

He nods. "You know he's married?"

"Oh, absolutely." She leans back slightly, weight on her palms. "It takes ten years of FBI training to deduce that a wedding ring means someone's married. Don't they teach you that in teacher school?"

 _It's fun to make him blush._

"I'm sorry - I - "

"It's fine." She laughs. She stands up and heads to the coffee bar. "Coming back here, seeing everyone change - seeing you, seeing Mac, seeing Wallace - and even myself."

She pauses for a sip and turns around, cup and saucer in hand. "I just kinda expected them to grow up too, you know?"

His brow furrows for a quick second before relaxing again. He nods. "Troy."

"Yup."

"Some people - "

"Never change."

Logan stands up and walks over to her. She watches, entranced, as he lifts a hand to her shoulder. His palm presses down gently, his thumb lightly brushing the place where her neck meets her collar. "Look, Veronica, I - I'm sorry."

She frowns.

 _Come again?_

"I'm sorry for even thinking that I needed to tell off those men for you. I mean, Duncan and Troy - I'm sure you could've handled them fine on your own."

 _Wow, did I use to be this fickle?_

"Logan, it's fine," she reassures, stepping closer. "I mean, yes, I'm a former agent, and I can handle worse people easily - but, well - "

She looks up to meet his eyes. They glisten back at her in deep, warm brown.

"Well, you get sick of doing all the protecting, sometimes, you know? It's not always that fun."

Her words take time to sink in, apparently, before his face breaks out in a beautiful, bashful grin.

"Thanks, Veronica."

"For what?" She shrugs, smiling.

"Let's see, uhm - for a hashtag-best-career-day-ever?"

And they way their laughter mingles truly does make her day.

* * *

A/N: My heartfelt thanks to everyone who patiently waits for each update to this story. I'm sorry that this chapter was a tad shorter than the others. I am crossing my fingers for longer chapters to come, but I make no promises :) Lots of love as always to irma66, a dear friend and a very helpful beta. She helps me through all my writer's blocks and makes sure no one magically changes outfits between paragraphs. This story is now officially halfway through. Yey! Let's hope I'll finish the second half within 2016, hehe :) Let me hear your thoughts!


	6. Intro to Observational Psychology

"You know those days when you just _know_ she's gonna pop in with a new one?"

Logan grins as he stirs his coffee. The tension in Wallace's voice is so palpable that it would be rude to laugh outright.

"Think you can't handle it?" He takes a sip.

"Dude, playoff spots are on the line over the next month. I can't take another one of her signature Stacy curve balls."

"She means well, you know."

"And meaning well is gonna give me back all forty hours I spent on that career fair havoc."

Logan cocks his head.

 _Forty hours?_

"Forty? Are you sure - "

"It's not the English teacher's job to make sure the gym is clean enough for game time, is it?"

Logan frowns, shifting around to face him. " _You_ had to clean it up? I thought - "

"That making googly eyes with your ex-girlfriend in the faculty lounge would be the best way to end the day?"

 _Well, if you put it that way._

"Wallace, I had no idea. I'm sorry I didn't - "

"Didn't what?" Veronica's voice, and her face, cuts in right between them. She smiles. "Logan Echolls apologizing? Sign me up for VIP seats."

His heartbeat steps on the gas pedal and speeds off the ravine at her sudden arrival.

 _Twelve, twenty, and twenty-plus-ten. She breathes magic pixie dust at any age._

He almost groans outwardly at his inward self.

"Uhm, sorry? It sounded funny in my head." She shrugs, after a moment with no reply.

Both men stare at her instantly. It takes two whole seconds of silence to recover.

" _Veronica Mars_ apologizing?" Wallace blurts it first. "Now _that's_ premiere entertainment."

"Ha ha, I'm not _that_ much of a reprobate, _brother_." She folds her arms, but her eyes still smile.

"Yeah sure, _stepsister_ ," he snaps right back, "I'm not the one with 'evil' right before my name in every single fairy tale."

She slaps his arm. He laughs. They all laugh.

 _That smile burns far too bright for this world._

Logan clears his throat. On some days, he'd much rather Emily Brontë does _not_ indwell English teachers' collective consciousness - nor Shakespeare, nor Austen.

But even he can't deny that they come in handy with the ladies ever so often - right?

"Alright, everyone, listen up!"

And the petite powerhouse of a principal has everyone seated in no time.

With his eyes fixed determinedly on the screen and persona in front, Logan fights every single nerve in his body.

 _Ignore, ignore, ignore._

He inhales.

 _Ignore, ignore, ignore._

His mind chants it like a mantra.

Just ignore the fact that the rapid mass gravitation towards the nearest seat has placed you in a cozy loveseat with the love of your life - easy, right?

 _Wait, love of what?_

He gulps down the rest of his coffee. Because a burnt tongue heals faster than public embarrassment.

'Aaron Echolls Son Sexually Assaults Female Teacher During Morning Announcements' - he could practically see the headline.

"Due to the recent decline in public ratings ever since the steroids incident," Principal Stacy comes to his rescue, "we need to promote a healthier image of Neptune High."

She taps her pen repeatedly on the edge of her podium, the small sound that precedes every new project.

 _What do you know? Wallace's spidey senses are in top condition today._

He looks sideways at the basketball coach; said coach glares right back.

Logan grins.

"What's up?" Veronica whispers.

And suddenly, his righted world is spinning again, his right hand fingers aching to rest on the milky white thigh beside him.

Not that she's exposing any inappropriate skin with her teacher-length pencil skirt.

 _But it doesn't help that I know exactly what she's hiding._

He could almost feel Wallace smirking at his discomfort.

"She's about to announce another project," he manages at last, voice flat and objective.

"Okay," she responds, far too calm for his liking.

 _Why do I always have to be the fool?_

They exchange casual smiles and both look towards the principal once more.

"In order to promote a better image with families," the woman continues, "the holographic welcome program during the open house next week has to be absolutely perfect."

The teachers nod in understanding.

"The problem is," she continues, "we're still a few thousand dollars short."

She sweeps the room with her laser-sharp gaze. "And we need a video to raise some more funds."

The room stills. Attention - negative or positive - equals instant volunteer.

Principal Stacy continues, undaunted, "Several visits from former student during the fair last week has inspired led the board to suggest that the video feature alumni who have returned to teach, give it a full circle theme. Wallace Fennel!"

Wallace perks up.

"Please stop by the multimedia room at two this afternoon to record your segment."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Veronica Mars!"

The blonde jumps with a 'me too?' glint in her eyes. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You stop by at three o'clock."

"I, uhm - "

"Logan Echolls!" She doesn't wait for a reply.

The erratic rhythm against his chest tells him he's not going to like what's about to follow.

"Four o'clock. Now, moving on - "

"Uhm, ma'am?" He ventures, throat dry. She looks at him straight in the eye. "Ma'am, I - uhm, what would we be, say, talking about?"

The principal gives a one-shoulder shrug, beige dress suit and all. "Your time in Neptune High? The best things about it?"

 _Logan, calm down._

He regulates his breathing.

 _No point waking the cavalry._

"Yes, ma'am."

The lady nods, calls on a couple more alumni who are currently on staff, and starts packing up. Individuals with first period assignments pop up in sporadic spots across the room.

After a handful of seconds, Logan finally recovers a regular heartbeat.

"You okay?" Her voice is as refreshing as morning spring rain.

He smiles, nods. "Yeah, just thought for a moment that she would - "

"By the way, Mr. Echolls." They both turn to face the call from the door. "I told them to give you more time. I'm sure people would love to hear about your relationship with your father."

Logan's towering over her in an instant.

 _This can't be._

He controls his voice with years of teaching experience. "Principal Stacy - ma'am, I - I don't think I can - I'm not comfortable sharing that much of my family history."

The administrator's face stays as impassive as ever. "I fail to see the problem here, Mr. Echolls. Your heritage has always been a point of fascination for - "

"I'll donate the money," he blurts anxiously. "How much do we need? I can write a check. I'll make a transfer."

"Mr. Echolls, it's not just a matter of money. The publicity we build from this event could create a chain reaction that could - "

"We can't risk it!" Veronica appears beside him. Her face emanates hyperbolic urgency. "Principal Stacy, according to my experience in the FBI and their correlations to kidnapping laws in California, we could potentially become liable for contributing to victim location and information. Exposing Lo - Mr. Echolls's identity would reveal Orlando's, and that revelation could become a security risk for all students who live in the 09 district."

"Miss Mars, I doubt - "

"Unless we don't include Mr. Echolls." Her agent voice leaves no room for argument.

The principal pauses slightly. "Mr. Echolls is the most famous of all the alumni teachers. If we don't include him - "

"Then we'll make a video of something else."

Logan scrunches his brow, fully aware the principal to his right is doing the exact same thing.

"Principal Stacy" - Veronica's all business - "to minimize security risk and promote the school without a reliance on tentative faculty rotations, I suggest a video featuring the actual classes, allowing the parents and potential donors a glimpse of the education that their money is funding."

"But that is far too common, Miss Mars. I - "

"Cannot be responsible for something bigger than ourselves," she finishes for her.

It feels almost as if everyone is holding his, or her, breath.

"Very well," Principal Stacy finally concedes, a handful of seconds later, "in view of the - _security risks_ , I'll allow a more normal approach to this promotional video."

She shifts around to fully face Veronica, each woman appearing far taller than usual due to the other. Her eyes narrow. "Miss Mars, since you suggested this change of plans, and since your schedule is currently the most flexible - I expect you to take over this project. I will review the results by Thursday. Have a good day."

* * *

She keeps her eyes on the principal's back as she marches away.

Somewhere deep down, she knows she hasn't fully won this battle yet - that depends on the quality of a certain video file two days from now. But if she's saved a man she cares for from becoming an inadvertent casualty, then the risk and extra work are unquestionably worthwhile.

"Hey," Logan calls her attention from thoughts of him to the actual him.

She looks up - far up - to meet his eyes. For a split second, she feels small, suddenly doubting if she's acted too impulsively. The next moment, she finds herself swept up in a large, passionate bear hug.

"Thank you." He breathes into her neck.

Her world spins at his natural scent, tinged with a layer of grown-up cologne. She feels his hands, large and warm, pressing firmly into her back. And for a small moment, she forgets the last twenty years of her life, and hugs him back with all her might.

The sound of Wallace clearing his throat finally makes him set her down.

She could swear she's blushing.

"Guess that cancels out my recording duties at two o'clock, huh?" Wallace grins, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

"Well, I - uhm." She clears her throat, finding her own voice strangely raspy. "I was thinking we could film the basketball practice sessions? If Principal Stacy wants alumni teachers, we could still show them the alumni classes. We just don't need close-up interviews or name particular people. We could show the actual classes, right? I mean, uhm, maybe?"

 _And I sound like a complete idiot._

She's grateful for the way Logan and Wallace nod accordingly.

"Sounds like a plan." Logan smiles.

And suddenly the effort feels doubly worthwhile.

She nods, inwardly fidgeting. "I'll drop by with a video camera later?"

"Sure. And I'll do it for your class."

Neither of them notice Wallace rolling his eyes and prancing out until much later.

"Guess school videos are kinda our thing, huh?" Logan's eyes almost twinkled.

 _I could drown in them forever._

She mentally chastises herself and stands up straighter.

 _What did he say again?_

"Our thing?"

"You know." He ducks his head, suddenly shy. "Lilly's video?"

The warmth of recollection washes over her. Young Logan slumping idly as he clicked at boring clips, piles of tapes splayed out on the table, her timid approach as she offered her homecoming video - how could she ever forget?

She fights the urge to cry.

"Right - of course. Always," she mumbles. She breathes with her mouth, willing the tears away.

"I'm sorry, did I - "

"No! No, you're fine." She manages a small smile. "It's just that, you know, the pain never - "

"Really goes away," he finishes with her.

The understanding lacing his features almost melts her.

She nods.

The warning bell, interpreted as a muted electronic ring in the faculty lounge, reminds them of the time.

They step further apart, breaking the spell.

"So, uhm," she starts first. "I'll drop by your class later?"

"Yes, of course, anytime."

She nods without looking at him and turns for the door.

* * *

"Good journalistic stories evoke empathy. They make readers actually _want_ the subject to get whatever he or she wants." Veronica taps the word 'empathy' on the board with the back of her index finger, the rest of her figure facing the class at her best angle. She looks at the students, one by one, spending the prescribed three seconds on each face. "Sometimes, the subject is obvious - like the student or community leader you're featuring. Sometimes, it's more abstract - perhaps a cause or ideal that you're rallying for. Either way, it needs to connect with your future reader. It needs to spur them to new thought, if not action."

She strides forward until she's standing right in front of Valentina. The two women exchange pleasant looks.

"Do you have a question?" Veronica smiles.

"How can we know which side to take? The person we're interviewing, or the cause against him or her?" Valentina asks, right on cue.

The instructor smiles. " _That_ , my dear, is for every true journalist to decide."

The class stills as Veronica looks over their heads to the camera at the back of the room.

"And here at Neptune High, we train them to be people who can decide for the good of themselves and their country."

"And cut," Logan announces, tilting the videocamera backwards before lowering it to his side. He smiles. "Good take."

Even with twenty students between them, it feels as if they're the only ones in the room.

She catches herself heaving - almost audibly - before she snaps back to normal. She turns to the students, eyes panning vaguely. "Thanks, everyone. That went well."

"Wait, so all you were saying was just an act?" Seaver asks, fully reverted to his slacker slouch in the five seconds since 'cut.'

"Of course not," she responds instantly, arms instinctively folding. "Empathy and perspective, as with all our other lessons, are just as important to good journalism as the contents we're covering. The existence of a camera doesn't mean one's actions need to be false."

"So all those reality shows are true?" Orlando's voice, clear as day, cuts through the class.

Everyone turns.

 _The Real Lives of Celebrity Offspring._

The gaudy layout of the TV show title springs to Veronica's mind, and she flinches.

"Perhaps," she treads carefully. Feeling all eyes on her - especially one pair from the back - she lowers her arms as she shifts slightly towards Orlando's side of the room. She speaks slowly, choosing words, "But some things could be caused by editing, or by other distortions. We can't trust everything we see, but we can try our best to be as real as possible, no matter who's watching."

The pain that had momentarily taken over the student's eyes quenches back into a lower simmer.

 _And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Aaron Echolls is still torturing his offspring._

"So - anyway," she mutters after a re-concentrating sigh, "everyone to your computers and work on those articles. Photographers, go to your story partners."

The students comply.

Her heart, however, would not.

 _Easy, Veronica._

But how could she when Logan's looking at her like _that_?

She bites one side of her lower lip. Who knew one could look grateful and tender and nostalgic all at one time?

She barely notices him coming over till he's a mere two feet away. She shuffles, feeling strangely shy.

"Thanks," he says - words simple and eyes full.

She nods, professional. "No problem. It's the least I could do."

"Still." He doesn't elaborate, and she understands.

They stand silently for a few seconds, the surrounding students an out-of-focus blur.

"Uhm, about Tri - "

She anticipates the rest of his words and pulls him out of the classroom, videocamera in tow. She refuses to acknowledge that anyone notices.

"Logan, it's fine," she whispers once they're out of earshot, though the students could still see them through the open door. She lets go of his wrist. "There was no other way I could've answered."

"I didn't realize you knew she'd gone on the show."

She shrugs, not proud of the upcoming reveal.

"I caught it on cable TV during a lonely business trip." She looks up at him. "But I am _so_ not admitting that to anybody else."

The levity in her voice seems to bring some back to his face.

Logan sighs and smiles simultaneously in that way only he could manage since high school. He shakes his head. "It's nothing overly detrimental, but I hadn't realized until today that Orlando knew."

"Google, hon," she replies, trying to sound playful. "You know, that thing that put you through high school?"

"And I thought that was Wikipedia. You learn something new each day."

They both chuckle softly.

"So, I, uhm - I think I have to get back to this thing called journalism?" Veronica shrugs like an awkward teenaged girl. "Cuz, you know, I'm scared my dad would know if I skipped class."

And there it is again - the nostalgic glint. "Well, far be it from me to keep you from duty. But hey, if you wanna drop by the lounge for some contraband ice cream in a bit, I _promise_ I won't tell."

* * *

"See?"

"See what?"

Sheila rolls her eyes.

 _Is everyone really this dense?_

"You know that whole 'something there that wasn't there' Beauty and the Beast vibe?" she whispers hoarsely, too engrossed in her own observations to notice the bewilderment all over Valentina's face.

"Beauty and the Beast, as in the fairy tale?"

 _Am I the only one who watches retro Disney films?_

Sheila sighs. "Alright, no allusions. But don't you think they're just too cute not to ship?"

"Who?"

Sheila frowns at her, outright incredulous. "Seriously? Just look at them" - she gestures generously towards the two teachers still grinning at each other right outside the door - "They're practically radiating sexual tension."

"Sheila!"

"What? Like you can't tell when two adults are ready to get down to business. I _know_ you love rom-coms, Val."

The younger girl blushes profusely.

"Oh come on, that's nothing to be ashamed of," Sheila comforts.

The other girl shrugs.

"Oh whatever, I'm sure you see it too. Cuz _that" -_ she cocks her head towards the teachers' general vicinity - "is certifiably hot."

"Well, yeah, but - "

Sheila glares.

"Yes, they are, okay?" Valentina concedes, smiling. "But hey, so are you and Orlando."

She fights the warmth on her cheek. Her fingers suddenly tease the edge of her folder. "What are you talking about?"

"You guys are the couple of the year!"

Sheila shushes her instantly. Valentine lowers her head, contrite.

"You guys are going out, right?" She asks, all her Latina vivacity contained in a more subdued tone.

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Have you kissed?"

She can't help the smile. "Yeah. And - "

"And how was it?"

"It was - I dunno, kinda explosive?"

She could tell Val almost squealed.

"But just because it was - nice," she speaks, secretively soft, "it doesn't mean the guy feels the same way, right?"

"But Sheila, he's _so_ into you. It's all over his face."

"I dunno - he never said anything about it."

"Maybe he just assumes you know how he feels?"

"Well, if life is anything like a rom-com, then assuming doesn't work. A guy needs to actually speak for himself," Sheila concludes as Veronica re-enters the room.

* * *

Five o'clock is a very strange thing. Amidst the refracting sunlight and multiple school bells, it's the time for relieved teachers thanking God for another day over. It's the time for anxious parents to commence their worries on their teenagers' whereabouts. It's time for young lovers to gravitate back towards each other in the hallways - and time for substitute teachers to smile at each face as it shuffles out the door.

"Have a great evening!"

"See you tomorrow!"

"Take care!"

There's a small part of her that insists this isn't normal - that Veronica Mars doesn't do perky, not since college. A greater part of her consciousness is see-sawing about just how friendly a teacher could get.

"Goodbye, Miss Mars," a gentle voice speaks.

Veronica smiles. "Bye, Valentina."

"Have a wonderful evening!" Sheila follows right behind her. "Don't forget to grab some coffee at the lounge. I've heard it's _divine_."

 _Okay?_

"Sure thing. Thank you, Sheila."

Convinced that she's finally alone, she drops down on the chair at the teacher's desk. Hands flat on the wooden surface, her brow furrows. While she usually ends the day with a nod and a smile, she'd never been this overtly cheerful.

 _Can't blame the kids looking at me weird._

Can a moment of nostalgia really cause _that_ much of a ripple effect?

"Miss Mars."

She opens her eyes at the male voice. "Orlando?"

He hangs his head for a moment while the teacher pulls up to her feet.

"Orlando, is something wrong? I haven't heard from you all day, I - "

"Thank you." The words came, sound and simple.

Veronica pauses. She cocks her head in thought.

Orlando shrugs. "I just wanna say - thanks for understanding, I guess."

"About Trina." Her eyes make it a question.

"Yeah, that." He shifts his weight for a moment. "And, uhm - about the video?"

"Video?"

 _Do I sound as clueless as I feel?_

"Yes, I mean, Uncle Lo - Mr. Echolls." Orlando's eyes jump all over; he shrugs with his hands still rooted in his jacket pockets. "I heard about the video thing you, like, averted."

And suddenly she recognizes the emotion displayed in front of her - begrudging respect.

She tries not to smile too widely. Cuz coming from a cocky teenaged boy, that's more than she had ever expected to earn.

"No problem, Orlando. You know I care for him."

His face shoots up, a fleeting moment of recognition flicking by.

Suddenly shy, she lowers her eyes. "I mean, I - "

"Of course," he cuts off for her. He smiles a little. "Have a good evening, Miss Mars."

"You too, Orlando."

* * *

A tap here and a circle there - and he finishes grading the last essay, electronically submitted, of course. He sighs at the hilarity of student complaints, a cacophony of protests against the midnight submission deadline. With no papers to print and armed with spellcheck, these kids have it easy!

He puts down his tablet and stares at the stack of quizzes on the coffee table before him.

 _Am I the only teacher who gives quizzes every day?_

His mind flashes to all his English colleagues, and stops complaining.

"I'm surprised you're not doing this in your office. Always thought this lounge was for homeless subs like me."

He looks up, smiling, to see her doing the same, her features accented softly by the setting sun.

 _Angelic._

"Not comfortable on your own desk?"

He collects himself like a smitten young boy. Giving her question a second thought, he shrugs.

There are very few havens he cherishes as much as his own office.

 _But stalking you on your 'new routine' happens to be my new routine._

He clears his throat, gentle and low. Eyes on her, he gestures to the sofa beside him to his left - specifically, at the paper bag on it. "Here to claim your contraband?"

"Ah, now _there's_ my bad boy." She smiles widely, tone light.

 _Yours?_

His heartbeat fights to stay within speed limit.

"Care to share the story?"

He shakes himself out of his trail of fantasies - again. He puts on a small smile. "Story?"

"About why my favorite dairy product in the world is contraband." She walks over - already armed with a spoon - picks up the paper bag, and sits down in its place. "I'm not gonna be around forever, you know."

 _And - there's the catch._

It's a cycle as frustrating as the first time one ever attempts starting a fire.

"Well?"

He turns at her voice. He chuckles at the sight - journalism teacher already digging out her next spoonful with her mouth still full.

He smiles. "Two years ago, Stephanie Zellman - painter that she is - decided it would be a good idea to celebrate _both_ food and painting. Her class produced canvas after canvas of edible art, with ice cream swirls galore."

"Sounds yummy."

 _What is it about her saying 'yummy' and eating ice cream that makes me picture tiny, brunette, blue-eyed children?_

He inhales. Man, he's getting worse.

 _She's not gonna be around forever._

He lets the mantra sink in, smiles grimly, and continues his story, "That afternoon, she brought in the best artwork from the class, every bit a proud momma. Everyone reveled at how creative and, well, _sweet_ the concept was."

He looks at her straight in the eye. "And the army of ants that took over that night certainly thought so as well."

She chuckles then, lips lightly lined with ice cream; her eyes light up like the sunrise.

 _Enough pseudo-poetic descriptions, Logan. God forbid you say anything out lou -_

"Your eyes look pretty."

 _Well, darn it._

She's furrowing her brow instantly. " _My_ eyes?"

"Yes." Cuz what else could he say? "They sparkle when you smile."

She doesn't look offended - which is good. In fact, she's smiling shyly. "Took ya twenty-five years to tell me that?"

"I guess I always thought you knew?"

She doesn't answer him, but she digs deep into her ice cream with a light crimson on her cheek. It wasn't there before.

He looks away, at of a sudden feeling just as shy, and reaches out for his quizzes. He flips his red pen and focused on the one on the top of the stack.

"So, uhm, you doing anything tonight?" She turns to face him while she asks. Her eyes flit to the papers in his hands right away.

He hangs his head like a stupid teenager.

"Guess that's my answer."

 _Not mine._

She smiles, thought a little more forcefully now. "You need any help?"

"Well, I - " He rediscovers his tongue, "I think I can manage. You could stay, of course, for, like, coffee and stuff. But with these, I - "

"I think I can handle checking multiple-choice quizzes, Logan."

He looks up at her smile, and he almost melts.

"Okay."

* * *

A/N: Hurray for another chapter done! I'm sorry this one took me a while. Four more chapters to go! Lots of love to irma66 for her constant encouragement and keen eye. Hugs and kisses to all my followers and reviewers. Thank you for your patience! If you have time, please do leave a review. I'd love to know what I got right or wrong!


	7. AP Counseling

The grin on his face is borderline embarrassing.

 _Thank God for private offices._

He leans back on his swivel chair and tries to stave off the next wave of incessant smiling.

He fails.

 _Alright, I'm happy - happy?_

Logan twirls his red pen just a few more times with his right hand. He smiles deeper, content. Whatever higher power controlled the string of bad luck in the first half of his life has apparently decided he's finally paid his dues.

And now he gets his prize - a cheerful, playful, lovely Veronica.

He runs his left hand across his face, but the smile stays stubbornly on.

 _Heaven forgive me for all the times I cursed grading._

Cuz with a witty angel by your side poking fun at every lazy student's ridiculous guess, it's the best job in the world.

He keeps smiling as he pulls himself up to refocus once again on the rubric on his monitor screen. Grammar, mechanics, coherence, organization, proof, formatting - what else is there to evaluate about research papers?

"Mr. Echolls!" The student's outburst coincides with the office door's doorknob crashing against the wall.

Logan looks up. "Drey?"

"Mr. Echolls, I - " the athlete looks straight at him for another second before hanging his head.

Logan pushes himself off the desk and walks over. He closes the door behind his back, eyes fixed on the student. "Something happened?"

Drey hesitates - and then shrugs.

"Drey, if you don't tell me what's gotten you storming into my office - there's not going to be anything I can do about this."

The firmness seems to work, as the student finally looks up, eyes misty. "It's - it's Lilly."

 _And how many times did I use to say those exact words to Miss James?_

Logan sighs with more sadness than frustration. He gestures towards the seat in front of them. "You wanna talk about it?"

After another moment's hesitation, Drey takes the seat; Logan returns to his own.

 _So, how do we do this?_

"Could you tell me what Lilly did?" He bites back the 'this time' at the tip of his tongue.

"She - she agreed to be my girlfriend," the younger man huffs, eyes lowered. "It happened last week."

"Okay."

Drey shifts some more, one leg bouncing. "It was good."

 _And please spare me the details of what 'good' means._

Logan almost scoffs at his prudishness. Teaching sure makes a man - into something else.

"And I figure that's not the end of the story?" He looks at his student once more.

"No."

"Well?"

The way Drey's eyes jump all over the room betray his agitation.

"Well?" Logan repeats.

"Today - just now - I saw her," Drey mutters, and then gulps, "I saw her kissing Seaver."

 _And here we go again._

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. Because, after all, who is he to judge? Her death was the only thing that had managed to stop his self-destructive homing instinct towards the original Lilly Kane.

"And I take it you were blindsided," he says instead.

Drey nods, eyes obviously brimming.

Logan searches his own thoughts for the next quiet minute. How did he himself finally get over that other Lilly? He looks at Drey. He looks at the edge of his desk. He looks at the stack of graded quizzes on the distribution shelf.

Then suddenly, the answer's clear.

Logan smiles a little, leaning forward. "Look, I'm not in the position to tell you whom you should or shouldn't date. That's your own business."

Drey looks up tentatively.

"I'm also not going to tell you whether you should or should not be angry at Seaver for all of this," the teacher continues. "That's between the two of you. But - I am going to tell you one thing."

He leans forward to make his point. "You're the only one who can stop her from doing that to you."

For a second, comprehension seems to dawn on the young man's face. "So I can stop her from cheating?"

"Hell, no," Logan laughs. He leans back. "But you can stop her from cheating _on you_."

"How?"

"By refusing to be put in that position."

"But how could I - "

"Stop seeing her?"

"Oh." Drey's excitement drops at the realization.

"I can't teach you how to change her, Drey."

"I guess."

"But I can teach you how to look for someone else."

Drey looks up. "But I don't want - "

"Anyone else until you look closer," Logan finishes for him. He sighs audibly. "You can't see anyone else cuz you're not looking, kid."

Drey spends another few seconds in contemplative silence.

"Why didn't you go to Wallace," Logan asks as if the thought has just occurred to him. "Maybe he - "

"He's still upset at me. I mean - ever since the steroids incident."

"Have you apologized?"

"Well, kinda."

Logan puts on his teacher face, furrowed brow and all.

"Alright, alright, man, I will," Drey concedes, hands in mid-air. "It's not like it'll be the end of the world."

"What would be the end of the world?"

"When Lilly dumps me."

"Unless you beat her to it."

The student looks up in surprise.

"What?" Logan leans back like a godfather, since he's already acting like one. "She's not the only girl out there. She just takes up so much space in most men's consciousness that they forget to look for anyone else."

"There's isn't anyone else, man, Lilly - I mean Lilly's a bitch, but she's, you know - cool, okay? Not everyone girl's like that."

"Not every girl in Neptune High is going to add to the sparkle of your star athlete plaque - true," Logan responds wryly. "But maybe someone right in front of you could actually be the better catch."

"Who? I mean - there isn't anyone around here. Orlando's got dibs on Sheila and - "

"Maybe someone waiting in the shadows for her time to shine?"

"Like" - Drey pauses - "Valentina?"

Logan smiles. "You didn't hear it from me."

"But you're saying that - "

"All I'm saying," Logan stands as he speaks, forming a rather imposing image, he likes to believe, "is that the star that shines first isn't always the one that shines brightest."

"You mean like Veron - Miss Mars?"

 _Have I been that obvious?_

He's tempted to tug his collar from his neck like the cliched portrayal of a nervous man. Instead, he says, "I mean that you need to get along, apologize to your brother, and think carefully about the girls you date."

"Yes, sir."

Drey's answer calms him.

But the wink that the student sends his way while leaving the office - that indicates that more people are onto his secret than he would like to think.

* * *

"Yes, ma'am, I will consider it." Smartphone tucked between her jaw and neck, Veronica lowers her coffee on to the laminated wood table. "Yes, ma'am. I know - yes, I will definitely let you know."

Mac raises an eyebrow at her frazzled friend. Veronica shrugs with her hands and free shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for your consideration. I will. Bye." She hangs up with a moan.

"Well, that sounds like a wonderful conversation."

"Ugh, stop torturing me, _Cindy_."

Mac laughs. "You know Dick likes to call me that in bed, right?"

The I-want-to-barf gestures Veronica makes are only half acting. "Okay, I get it, Mac it is."

"As it should be." The brunette grins. She frowns at her friend's lunch salad. "I know Thalassa is famous for our organic greens, but since when have you _not_ preferred the Fettuccine Alfredo?"

Veronica groans, to the delight of her companion. "That phone call was from TFK, you know."

"The security company?"

"Yeah." She pokes at her salad.

"So why is your future boss calling you now? You still have bridesmaid dresses to fit."

"They want me to report earlier." She huffs at her blond hair. "Like, in two weeks."

"Well, OMG," Mac replies, sounding far too calm at her friend's predicament. "How are they gonna take your rejection?"

"What?"

"You're not seriously considering it, are you?" Mac chews on her rich mushroom burger - wedding dress fittings be damned.

"It's not like I'm staying here for keeps."

"I know, and neither are you staying there."

"Huh?"

Mac rolls her eyes, lips licking the sauce on her fingers. "You don't seriously think you'll stay in the Big Apple for life, do you?"

"I've thought about it."

"Yes, but that's different. You're a Neptune girl at heart." Mac lowers her food. "And take it from someone who's been there, we Neptune girls don't stay away."

"You came back because of Dick."

"And you'll stay back because of Logan."

"Mac!"

"What? Did I say anything wrong?"

Veronica turns to the empty seat beside her, looking more guilty than anything, before facing up again. "I'm not gonna deny I like him, Mac. But seriously - he has a life here now, a full one. He loves his job, he's raising Orlando, and there's no indication whatsoever that he's gonna want me around."

"And the heart-shaped eyes we see anytime he's in your company is just a collective mirage?"

Veronica inhales, then she sighs without replying.

After a handful of seconds, Mac sighs too. "Look, I'm not telling you that you can't take the TFK job. That's something you've planned since last year. I know that."

Veronica meets her eyes. Mac smiles a little before continuing, "I'm just saying that if TFK isn't gonna keep you away for long anyway - then why keep going around in circles? Lessen the laps and just park, girl."

"I've tried asking him out, Mac."

"And?"

She shrugs. "And he had quizzes to grade."

"So it's not his fault."

"But isn't this a if-there's-a-will-there's-a-way thing? I mean - seriously, what if he doesn't want me here anyway? He didn't even know I was coming back. He looked as surprised as I was when we first met - no thanks to you, Miss Orlando's Godmother."

The expression on Mac's face highly resembles a suppressed smile. "You could stop giving me grief about hiding Orlando's identity, you know. I only did that because you only believe in things you discover yourself."

"I didn't _need_ to discover that myself!"

"Well, oops." Mac grins.

* * *

"Where's the bacon?" He peers over her lunch with a gentle smile. "One more day of salad, and I'm swearing you're someone else."

She laughs - and it's as beautiful as ever. "My dear hyperactive metabolism deserted me on my 30th birthday, unfortunately. So salad week, it is."

She smiles up at him invitingly, and he takes his place by her side.

He takes a sip of his own coffee. "Given the extra space on this sofa, I'd say your metabolism is doing perfectly fine."

She laughs again, this time putting aside her salad and gesturing around her waist. "See this? This waist feels _double_ what it used to be. I promise it'll never fit in your hands like it used to."

The oxygen level in both his lungs plummets into the abyss.

"That's - not even possible," he manages, barely breathing. He lets his eyes linger for just a bit near the station of her hands before sinking his gaze into his coffee cup. "No one gains weight that badly."

"Oh, but I do!" Her exuberance persists unaffected. She picks up her lunch. "Can't fight age, buddy."

He scrambles for something witty to say.

"But then again, _you_ still look dapper." She says it like a throwaway line, but it affects him more than he cares to admit.

"Thank you," he mutters, two seconds late, "though I disagree."

Her easy laughter make the entire room brighter. "No winning with you, is there?"

"More like no winning with you."

She smiles wide and bright - like she's genuinely happy. "So - how about something we can both agree on. You have any, uhm, plans for tonight?"

 _Why now, dear heaven, why now?_

Having very limited time for socializing has never seemed so frustrating before.

"I do, actually," he laments. "It's Anna's birthday party tonight."

"Anna?"

He looks at her. There's no faking that honest inquiry. "Duncan's wife?"

The slight confusion transitions into recognition. "Oh, right - uhm, that happened - two years ago?"

"Five, actually," he correct gently, still puzzled. "You mean, you don't know?"

She shrugs, looking like she cares less than he expected. "Never got the invite."

 _Of course she cares, Logan._

"I'm sorry." He wards off the disappointment. "I hadn't realized that. I - I always assumed you just - didn't show up."

"To my high school ex-boyfriend's wedding? Nah - I'll pass." She smiles. "It's better they snub me before I do them."

His heart tightens, hopeful. "You wouldn't have gone?"

"I would have sent a present," she openly contemplates, "but I - I guess I just don't see the point?"

 _Okay, let's figure this out._

He exhales as subtly as he can. "No point in what?"

"In investing yourself in someone that doesn't matter anymore, you know." Her gaze looks far away from his vantage point. "Sometimes - time makes the super crucial into unimportant."

He waits until she looks back at him. "Is that what happened to us?"

Her eyes grow dead serious. "You've never stopped mattering to me."

* * *

"Make sure every line is checked. Do not rely on spellcheck. The human mind will always be smarter than computers." Her heels click in a firm rhythm as she walks down the center of the classroom. Students at computers flank her left and right.

"Done, Miss Mars!" Seaver hollers, perfectly smug.

"Good," Veronica responds, smiling, "check it again."

"But Miss Mars, I - "

"Seaver, read _every_ line."

Stifled giggles trail throughout the room as the student, aptly humbled, turns back to his screen.

She crosses her arms with a satisfied smile.

 _I could get the hang of this teacher thing._

"Miss Mars," Valentina's voice pipes up hesitantly, just like the arm she's raised, "I found an error in the caption. Should I fix it on this file."

Veronica quickly strides over to check, peering from behind the young girl's shoulder. All five hundred words stare blankly back at her.

"Yes, you could fix it here," she orders as her eyes scan the content. "But maybe - you want to add something to it too?"

"But I didn't write this one, Miss Mars. I'm just editing."

Veronica looks downward at the sweet, uncertain brown eyes.

 _She looks just like Carmen._

She gives a small smile. "But if it's an improvement to the article, then it would do the author good too, don't you think?"

"But wouldn't it be too pushy of me?"

Veronica frowns. "You're the section editor, Valentina. You can't offend someone by doing your job."

 _Then again, you can._

"Really?"

Veronica sighs. Her students are often _too_ smart. "I won't lie - it does, and it will. Not everyone is going to be happy with what you choose."

She leans against the cubicle, eyes looking kindly at little Miss Navarro, "But just because people aren't happy about it doesn't mean you stop doing what you have to do."

Valentina nods, eyes full of thought.

"What's on your mind?" The teacher demands before she can help herself.

"Oh," the young girl stammers, "I - I was just wondering if that's why you left your job, Miss Mars."

A thousand thoughts flood Veronica's mind. She sighs and chooses one - the big one. "Sometimes, what we have to do is only for a season. We do it, and then we're done. That was the FBI for me. I've done it - and I'm done. I need something a little more - normal."

"Like teaching journalism?" Orlando interrupts, peeking out from behind his cubicle the way Logan used to. His lips are glued into a decided smirk. The kid _knows_ he's attractive.

 _Just like his uncle._

The thought makes her smile. "I will admit - taking over journalism has been more fun that I'd expected it to be."

"So you'll stay through next year?" Hope springs eternal in Valentina's voice.

Veronica's smile turns grim. "I don't know about that. I - I can't predict the future."

And with that, she walks away.

For the rest of the hour, she wanders absent-mindedly. She weaves between the students - steps soft and heart confused.

What really is in her future anyway?

 _Unless I'm ready to say Mac's right._

The huff of air she sends against her bangs coincides with the school bell. Instantly, students fly off their seats and out the room. Young men hoist their backpacks, young girls giggle in clusters, and couples stroll out with arms around each other.

She almost does a double-take at the sight of Drey waiting at the door and grinning down at Valentina.

 _Well, what do you know? The kid's improved his tastes._

She smiles at the retreating students. Then she turns and sighs at the empty chairs.

Sure, she's come to love each one of her ridiculous crew - but how much longer would she be here to actually help them?

She reaches under the teacher's desk to retrieve her materials, mind a million miles away.

A sniffle and a sob pull her right back to the present.

She scans the room until she finds Sheila's petite figure bent over in her seat, alone in the corner. Veronica rushes over.

"Sheila? Are you okay?"

The student pulls away from her touch. Frowning, Veronica pulls up a chair nearby. She waits till the sobs subside.

She puts a gentle hand on Sheila's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Sheila sniffles, and sniffles again.

"I won't judge - if that's what you're worried about."

The student looks away and then back down at her own hands.

"Sheila, there's is nothing you're going through that I haven't, at some point in my life, endured. You can talk to me - I promise."

That statement seems to finally gain some ground.

"It's - it's Orlando," Sheila finally musters. She lowers her head, looking unusually shy.

"Did he do anything to hurt you?"

"Oh no! No - " Sheila looks up, anxious, before hanging her head again. "It's just - it's silly, I'm sure."

" _Nothing_ is silly, Sheila. There must be a reason a strong girl like you is hurting."

The word 'hurting' sends her off to another series of sobs. Veronica almost puts her face in her palm. "Okay, I'm sorry if I made you feel worse, but Sheila - you have to tell someone what's wrong."

Sheila shrugs.

"Did Orlando hurt you?"

"Not that he cares," she blurts.

 _Did I used to be just as dense?_

"Of course Orlando cares for you. Have you ever seen his smile when you enter the room?"

"He was looking at Lilly, okay?"

The outburst catches Veronica off-guard. "Lilly?"

"Lilly Kane. We were at her house for the sustainability project thing, and Orlando - he just kept talking to her and staring at her and even goes to her bedroom to 'take pictures' and - "

"You think he's cheating on you." The picture of another Lilly Kane dragging Logan Echolls by the groin flashes vividly in her mind.

 _Can't say I was never jealous._

"If it could even be called cheating," Sheila laments. She sits up straight before collapsing against the back of her chair. "Who says we were even dating?"

"You're not?" The words escape her thoughtlessly.

"Well, we - he never said anything you know." The student shrugs, her tone helpless. "Sure, we spend a lot of time together - but who's to say he'll choose little Sheila over the _fabulous_ Lilly Kane?"

The parallels shift in her mind like a slipstream. Veronica inhales. "But you haven't _seen_ him do anything - intimate - with Lilly. Have you?"

Sheila shakes her head.

"Then maybe - maybe you should talk to him about it?"

 _I'm an utter hypocrite, aren't I?_

Sheila turns slightly towards her. "As in - ask him about it?"

"Yes, ask." Veronica pauses, then adds, "not confront."

"But what if he doesn't even care?"

"If no one does anything - then nothing's gonna happen."

"But what if - "

"Look, Sheila," she speaks gently, hands on the young girl's forearms, "this whole thing only hurts because you care, okay? It wouldn't hurt like this if nobody cared."

"And what if I'm the only one who cares?"

Veronica breathes in, long and slow. "Then unless somebody speaks up - you'll never know."

"Is that what happened to you and Mr. Echolls?"

She flinches.

 _Where did that come from?_

Then she sighs and smiles. "Sometimes, I train my protégés _too_ well."

* * *

The sunset rays, low and warm, are barely visible by the time she slips into the lounge. She inhales the scent of brewed coffee.

 _There's no place like home._

After a generous lungful of the sweet aroma, she walks over for her standard cup.

"Had a nice day?"

She smiles. She answers without turning. "Nice enough. There's nothing as entertaining as the soap opera of high school romance."

She turns around to see him smiling at her over the back of his loveseat. She smiles back and moves over.

They settle comfortably beside each other, no words necessary.

"So," she begins between sips, "thought you had a birthday party thing?"

Logan laughs briefly. He gestures to the small stack on his lap. "I figured I'd finish these first. It's not like Anna's little soiree would miss me much."

She finds herself smiling before she knows it.

She takes another sip, noting that he seems more eager to look at her than the make-up quizzes. "Any interesting answers today?"

He flaps the top sheet in the air. "Short answer question: 'What are the two kinds of sonnets?' Student answer: 'Shakespearean and Presbyterian.'"

The chuckle that escapes her is deep and happy. "Never knew English could be more interesting than journalism."

"Ah, now you wound me, Miss Mars." He frowns dramatically. "What could possibly be uninteresting about English?"

"Grammar, poetry, essays - to name a few," she counts casually. She looks at him. "But hot English teachers do make it better."

The compliment sinks in as the pink hue rises in his cheeks. He looks down, smiling.

 _Well, what do you know? The lady charmer's shy._

"Not taking credit for the Echolls charm? Why, I'm surprised," she teases before taking another sip. "I left it wide open."

For some reason, he grows even redder.

"It's not always a good thing, you know," he says, ten seconds late.

Her mind infers instantly. "Lilly?"

He nods, then sighs. "Not exactly excited to know she'll be around tonight."

 _Hence the stalling._

She looks away.

 _And here I was, thinking it was me._

She clears her throat, scrambling for a topic. "Orlando going with you?"

"Not invited - despite Trina's tears." He chuckles a little. "Not that he'd want to go anyway - I hear Sheila's free tonight."

She meets his eyes. The mirth in his smile tells her exactly what he doesn't know.

"So, Orlando and Sheila - are they, uhm, dating?" She sets down her cup, ceramic on glass.

"They're not?" He both looks and sounds surprised.

"Has he said anything?"

He pauses for a second. "To her?"

"Call it a DTR, a proposal, a clarification. It helps for a girl to know."

His face adapts an unreadable expression. He nods a little. "He never spoke up?"

"Not that I could see in class."

Logan breaks into a bleak smile. "It's obvious he cares."

"Yes - very. But how would _she_ know for sure?"

"Does he _have_ to do something deliberate?"

"Would he ever have a chance to keep her if he doesn't?"

He looks at her for another quiet moment.

 _What's with him?_

Suddenly, he laughs bitterly. "You know what, maybe he's just afraid she'll say no."

"Like any cocky 09er would ever think that."

"Oh, they totally would." He looks down, grim smile in place. "Especially if he cares enough."

She lets the answer sink in.

 _Not speaking up is - good?_

She huffs a weary sigh. "I should be glad those teenaged years are over for us."

"Not a fan of drama?"

"Not when I'm in it."

"You're not afraid of missing out on the action?"

"That's why I quit the bureau, right?" She smiles at the thought. "It's been nice, actually. No criminals or aliases."

"Right."

They sit silently for another minute.

"When you quit the FBI - was this your plan?"

She turns up to meet his eyes. His face looks as tentative as his voice sounded.

"No, not really. It was Wallace's idea." She looks down - away. "I was - supposed to start another job."

"PI work?"

"Security, actually."

"Ah, anything specific?"

"TFK."

"Where?"

"New York."

Then she feels it - the door slamming shut.

She doesn't look up until she feels him pushing up from the seat.

"When does it start?"

She waits, a thousand decisions churning in her mind. She gulps. "In two weeks."

He nods. The tip of his tongue swipes over his lips. "Congratulations, then. I - I'm sure it'll be great."

* * *

A/N: Hang in there, we'll get to the end soon enough :) Heartfelt thanks to irma66 for her help and friendship, and thank you to everyone who's been reading/reviewing! Whenever I feel discouraged about writing, I re-read your reviews until I feel energized again. Thank you! If you liked this chapter, I hope you leave your thoughts as well :)


	8. High School Anthropology

He lets out his breath slowly - tediously.

 _I can do this._

He takes a few steps closer, eyes resting on her svelte figure from the back. She's long settled into a comfortable routine at work - a routine that included lounge visits as the first and last thing of her day. For as long as he's known her, this has been the easiest time he's had in locating her.

He has it easy - he knows that.

 _But it still isn't._

He pauses for a moment, heart in his throat.

He'd let her free back then. He'd put her first. When she'd left for Quantico, when her phone number had hovered so enticingly every time on his phone screen, he never acted upon it. He saw her social media updates, few though they be. She's been productive - and happy.

 _Right?_

He exhales again.

Could his current self actually be more selfish than the one two decades ago?

"Hey sis." Wallace approaches her easily, planting a hand on her shoulder. "You up for that dinner?"

Logan sees her nod, and his heart clenches. He finds himself jealous of Wallace for the first time ever.

 _Does it always have to be this hard?_

No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.

He catches his breath. Why did he have to curse himself?

"You joining us?"

Logan looks up at Wallace's voice. His eyes scan the image before him. On the left, Wallace stands and smiles - chill as ever - with an elbow planted on Veronica's shoulder. She, on the other hand, sports a smile too polite for his liking.

 _If only -_

If only what?

He gulps and forces a smile. "Farewell dinner?"

"No, man, just dudes chillin' out. Seriously, it's not till - wait," he stops to look at his stepsister, "when do you leave again?"

"In two weeks," she recites. Wallace looks surprised; Logan laments that he himself isn't. "They, uhm, asked me to report earlier."

"And you're going?"

 _She is._

"Yeah?" She offers, surprisingly hesitant, "I mean - it's not like I - have a reason to stay."

His heart can't decide whether to break or to hope. His arteries threaten to burst from the confusion.

 _Damn it all._

"Well, what if," he begins, "What if - "

"Attention, everyone!" Principal Stacy's command has all heads turning. "Guess what we found last night?"

Logan unwillingly turns to face the administrator. He leans forward against the back of the closest loveseat. He hears her shuffling lightly behind him.

"We all know of the school's stand on public displays of affection," the principal continues, hands moving all over her podium, "there are certain places that are considered - off-limits, should I say. And it is rather unfortunate that someone under the guardianship of one of our faculty members - "

The room tenses up another degree. All eyes, and ears, focus on the small but powerful figure.

"Have been apprehended making out rather _amorously_ in the boys' locker room with his girlfriend," she concludes.

For five full seconds of painful suspense, every teacher-parent in the room leans forward with bated breath. Logan contemplates how little he would care if the couple found is Orlando and Sheila.

 _Some Echollses deserve their happy ending_.

"Coach Fennel," Principal Stacy's voice cuts through the tension. "Drey Fennel and Valentina Navarro were found last night an hour after school ended. I would expect you to remind young Mr. Fennel of what's _appropriate_."

Logan can't help smiling at the low chuckling - most certainly repressed - that's escaping Veronica.

 _And good luck with Weevil, dude._

"Coach Fennel?" The principal insists.

"Yes, ma'am," Wallace mumbles after a second's delay.

Logan turns around to face the step-siblings - one wide-eyed and the other full of repressed glee.

"Good," Stacy continues. "As for the rest of us, let's be more vigilant about student interactions. Now, on to the security updates."

The principal's voice drones on inconsequentially as he watches the exchange between Wallace and Veronica.

"You knew?" The coach, face tinged with both surprise and dismay, confronts his smiling sister.

"A detective always knows, Wallace," she declares proudly. "Never underestimate the FBI."

"But - "

"Would you rather it be with Lilly?"

That silences Wallace sufficiently, apparently.

"I think it's a good match," Logan finally attempts. He ventures a look at Veronica. "I hope Orlando chooses just as wisely."

"Really now?" She responds, more happily than he expected, "I would have thought you'd rather catch them in a fine restaurant instead."

And he carries her smiles with him to class.

* * *

"So what's _that_ all about?"

She looks at Wallace. She frowns. "What about what?"

"Trouble in paradise?"

The words sink in faster than she'd like. Biting her lip, she sets down her cup on the nearest glass counter. "It's not me ignoring him."

"I've known this guy since high school, Veronica. He _never_ ignores you unless you say so."

"Not true. _He_ broke up with _me_ at Hearst, remember?" She looks up at her brother, eyes stinging. "It's not always my fault, you know."

"Alright, alright - not your fault." Wallace takes a step back, hands raised palms-out in front of him. "But seriously, what's with the silent treatment?"

She sighs, long and slow. "I told him last night."

"About your undying love?"

"You sound like Mac!" She punches him in the arm. His chuckle gets her to smile a little. "There's no undying love to confess here, people."

"And my name is Abraham Lincoln."

"Wallace," she warns.

"Alright, fine!" The mirth in his eyes softens into concern. "But seriously, what did you tell him?"

"The leaving in two weeks stuff, you know?"

"So you're taking the offer?"

The simple question destabilizes her inner balance. She instantly frets, "I don't know! It's not like - not like I have a reason to stay."

"Gee, I feel the love."

"Come on, Wallace, you know I care. But you already have Drey, and Dad has Alicia and Almira, and Logan has - "

She lowers her head and licks her lips.

 _Stupid Veronica._

Since when has leaving Neptune become such a chore?

"Hey."

She looks up at the feel of Wallace's hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, alright? Just because we all look busy with our own lives doesn't mean we don't have room for yours."

She pauses, uncertain. The sincerity in Wallace's eyes sure looks real - but what about _him_?

"Am I that obvious?"

Wallace shrugs. "To someone who knows you."

She sighs. Matters of the heart have never been her strong point.

 _Matters of the heart? I'm beginning to sound like Logan._

The thought evokes a bitter smile.

She focuses back on Wallace, who happens to be contorting his face in a very strange frown. "So, uhm - about that dinner?"

"Yeah, sure." She plugs her hands in the pockets of her black pants. "Why not?"

* * *

At the very moment the lunch bell rings, fast footsteps, breathless squeals, and excited hollers grow from hushed noises to a loud cacophony. Left and right, students squeeze by her in the hallway. She tries, quite uselessly, to maneuver herself towards the walls; and she soon finds herself standing in the hallway crossroads, the tip of her shoes toeing the Neptune High symbol.

 _I'm never leaving that lounge again._

Choosing to head to the library right before lunch was apparently a horrendous idea.

A wave of squeals assaults her ears as a young man saunters into the center of the ring.

 _What's going on?_

Whatever this is - she's got front-row seats.

The young man, dressed in a hat and a trench coat, won't show his face as he pulls a few dance moves. If the swooning ladies around her are any indication, however, the student body knows exactly who it is.

After another series of squeals, a small female figure is thrust into the open space to face the mystery man. The blonde locks, large eyes, and bossy pose make her identity unmistakeable.

 _But what's she doing here?_

Concentrating on the presence of an obviously unplanned Sheila, she barely noticed the small posse of boys who stride forward in unison to relieve the leading man of his coat and hat. She turns around to look.

She catches her breath.

The fact that it's Orlando Echolls holding the most gorgeous bouquet of two dozen red roses she's ever seen isn't reason to swoon. The fact that the girls all around her are next to melting aren't worth noting either.

But that deep and tender softness in his eyes as he walks towards Sheila - the gaze that transports her to stolen kisses in the pool house and longing caresses in the back of a yellow XTerra -

 _No._

She takes a deep breath to calm herself just as Orlando reaches Sheila. With a theatrical sweep of his hand, he falls forward on one knee.

 _Like uncle, like nephew?_

"Sheila," he starts, her name gentle on his lips, "I know this is cheesy, and I know this is silly. I know it's not exactly 'cool' to make a big deal about asking your girlfriend to prom."

The crowd listens; sniffles abound.

"But, Sheila - you're worth more to me than being cool. You mean more to me than being suave."

Sheila squeezes his hand. The crowds swoon.

"Sheila, I love you - and I can't imagine ever being with anyone but you. Would you make me the happiest man in school today by joining me for prom?"

Veronica holds her breath.

"Yes!" came the answer. The young couple hugs and kisses; the crowd erupts in cheers.

Trapped amidst the energetic students, Veronica pulls herself tighter into a single column. She fights the threatening sniffle.

For a moment, her rationale protests the stupidity of it all. Promposals? Really?

But somewhere deep inside of her, a painful heart throbs. Because, no matter the wonder in a high school declaration, no matter the deepest love sworn - what are the odds for the two kids to still be together twenty years hence?

Almost in response, the excited crowd wanders out to lunch - leaving one particular teacher standing right across the hall.

* * *

He watches her fight her tears, and he wishes he could dry them. But what right did he have to stop her dreams for his?

As the crowds thin, he sees her reassuming her usual calm. He'd been happy to push Orlando along after her comments last night. There's nothing happier than seeing the ones you love get their heart's desire.

 _But what about me?_

He sees her see him, and he walks forward.

"Guess you saw that, huh?" He ventures, fighting hard to mend fences.

"Yeah, I did," she answers softly. She sighs. "You, uhm - told Orlando to do something about it?"

"A little," he admits. He licks his lips as he restrains himself from plugging his hands in his pockets. "I didn't expect him to go all out."

She laughs, and his heart lifts. "He's your nephew, Lo. Why _wouldn't_ he go all out?"

He smiles when she smiles. "I suppose I just didn't think prom would be such a big deal. Promposals? Never a thing back then."

"Thank God it wasn't. Ever wondered how much the 09ers back then would spend on those?"

"Only if it's a big deal."

"Yes, only in high school," she adds.

Her words cast a spell on them both, and they hang their heads simultaneously. The hallway stills completely.

"I guess - some things only matter in high school?" He finds his voice and forces the question.

 _I have to know._

"I guess," she responds.

He inhales and braces himself before looking up. "No regrets?"

"No." Her voice is timid, small.

He nods.

 _Of course - why would she?_

"You?"

He looks up again. "Huh?"

"Any regrets?"

The two little words pierce him to his soul. He chuckles sadly. "Oh yes."

"Like what?"

He meets her eyes then, exerting everything he has to decipher her gaze. He tries so hard that he knows the hope he sees is a figment of his imagination.

 _But I still gotta try._

"You," he says simply.

Then the bell beckons him away.

* * *

"In literature, romantic love is as often tragic as it is blissful. For every couple that finds their happy ending, there is another pair that suffers a worse fate." Having reached the edge of the classroom, Logan reluctantly turns to pace back. "While it is human nature to desire happiness, most authors wish to elaborate more on why the course of true love never runs smooth."

He leans back against his desk, eyes lowered. He sighs before looking up with a shrug. "Any thoughts on why?"

"True love is worth the wait," Sheila states simply from the front row. Her eyes meet Orlando's so they could proceed to exchange the most nauseating smiles known to man.

 _And I wish I could have that too._

Fully assured of his own hypocrisy, Logan glances at the rest of the class. "Anyone else?"

Multiple voices murmur, unwilling to launch formal replies.

"Drey," Logan calls.

"Uhm - I guess it's easier to write bad stuff than good stuff?"

"Alright - uhm, Ashley?"

"Tragedy is the most romantic thing possible!"

"Interesting perspective. Orlando?"

"Huh?" The kid snaps out of his shared reverie.

Logan rolls his eyes, impatient. "Fine - Valentina?"

"I think it's sad," the star student - eyes wide - responds. "It would be horrible to see people in real life never finding each other."

"Like Drey found you, huh?" Seaver quips from the back, starting a wave of chuckles that takes ten second to subside.

Looking at Valentina's vibrant blush, Logan fights the urge to groan.

All this lovey-dovey trend is bad - very bad.

"Seaver, since you have so much to say, perhaps you would care to elaborate upon the topic? Why do you believe literature tends towards the tragedy as much as the happily ever after?"

He levels his eyes, resolute, at the student and his propped-up leg. Seaver shrugs. "Beats me. I'll always prefer some lovin'."

The student's eyes stray towards the girl beside him. She, on the other hand, twirls her hair quite casually - her eyes carrying a devilish glint.

Logan pointedly ignores the bait. "Your preference for a happy ending does not always equate to other writers thinking the same."

"But it sure is realistic," Seaver surprised him in reply.

 _Realistic?_

"Do you think - "

"Life's a bitch, Mr. Echolls," Seaver interrupts. He glares at Lilly - still twirling her hair. "You give it everything you got, and it still doesn't want to give you a happy ending."

"Perhaps we should explore - "

"Miss Lilly Kane here is walking proof, aren'tcha?" Seaver leans over until Lilly's just an inch away. Sensing the tension, Logan strides over quickly.

He reaches them just as Lilly finally glares back at Seaver. "Chill, loverboy."

The distant memory of yet another Lilly Kane floods his memory at the term. He breathes deep before taking in the two students before him.

 _Did I use to be this smitten too?_

"Lilly - " Seaver attempts.

"Cut it out. Did I _ever_ say you were my type?" Lilly drops her hands on her desk, affecting a bored expression. "We made out - big deal. What's with the endless talking about it?"

"Lilly - "

"Ugh, stop it, loverboy. You could learn a thing or two from Mr. Echolls here."

The suggestive leer she sends Logan's way sends uncomfortable chills down his spine.

"Lilly." It's his turn to warn.

"Sir, I believe you were quite the charmer before - and heck, still are." She giggles vapidly. "Care to teach loverboy here a couple of lessons?"

"Lilly, this is not - "

"Kissing tips? Bedroom kinks?" She winks exaggeratedly.

And Logan loses it.

"Enough!" Logan booms, pulling up to his full height. "Lilly Kane, this behavior is unacceptable. I've talked to your father, and - "

"He let me off with a warning." She laughs and sets her eyes firmly on him before narrowing them into resolute slits. "Did you really think he would do anything to me? I'm his pride and joy."

"Even though you shouldn't be," Logan pronounces - and the room stills.

The classroom clock beeps. His heart clenches at the memories of an indulgent Jake Kane and his dead daughter.

"Mr. Echolls! Did you just - "

"Lilly, you need to know - "

"You can't insult me like that!" Lilly exclaims as she stands up defiantly. "I'm telling Principal Stacy!"

She stomps out the door before anyone could say another word. Seaver instantly braces his hands on his desk, ready to stand. He looks at Logan, wordlessly seeking permission.

The teacher sighs. "Fine, you go."

* * *

"Should I boldface the by line?"

"Should I add a caption?"

"Could I get an extra photo for this?"

Veronica hides the sigh as she looks up at three inquisitive, and worried, faces. "What's that?"

The students repeat themselves.

"No, yes, and up to you. You could always grab some photos from the career fair's folder."

The students nod and retreat - except for one. Veronica fights the impulse to turn and ignore any potential concern.

"Miss Mars, are you okay?" Her blond hair grazes her shoulder as she tilts her head.

Veronica smiles a little. Her arms fold firmly across the chest as she leans back from the desk. "I'm fine, Sheila. Thanks for asking."

The student nods. The light blush on her face hasn't faded since lunch.

Veronica smiles a little more. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah." Sheila shrugs, smiling more demurely than ever. "Orlando was - nice."

"Is that the latest code for make-out now? I thought kids would be more creative."

Sheila rolls her lips inward as she flushes to her roots. "Miss Mars, I - "

"You have a hickey on your neck." The triumphant investigator grin comes instinctively.

Sheila's small hand flies over it instantly. "Oh, right - uhm, yeah."

 _Sheila speechless? Man, Orlando's got game._

Veronica smiles sincerely. "I'll have you know I'm a cool teacher. No lecture here. Now go finish your article, okay?"

Sheila nods and backs away. For a handful of seconds, Veronica reminisces the times when she was on the other side of the desk of dread.

 _Not that I ever dreaded it._

After years of acting older than her age - when has she become more timid than a teenager?

Her eyes catalogue each student, each cubicle, each spread of paper in the room. Teaching isn't all that bad - is it? She almost scoffs at the recollection of her multiple protests at Wallace's outlandish suggestion a week after she came back.

 _Came back._

She inhales.

Somewhere along the line, it's stopped becoming a visit. The number of personal items in this desk's drawers, the deep black suitcase she's put in her father's attic, and the way she's come to prefer the lounge's coffee over any other - they indicate more than she'd care to admit.

She fingers the edges of the tablet on her desk. With all the technological aids available, teaching's been almost - palatable.

Her face relaxes into a smile.

 _Who knew?_

The shock of the unanticipated bell ring has her almost jumping out of her seat. One by one, the students file, run, or skip out of the room. For them, the bell indicates freedom.

 _For me?_

It only means continuous confusion - alone.

"Miss Mars?"

Veronica looks up at two shining brown orbs. She notices Drey's hovering form in the background.

She smiles. "Yes, Val?"

"Is everything okay?"

 _Nope._

Veronica licks her lips. "Everything's fine. Is something bothering you?"

"Oh, no - not at all." Valentina smiles, eyes and words tender. "It's just - you looked - distracted."

 _If only that's the end of it._

Veronica forces her smile deeper. "Distracted?"

"You were staring - at nothing."

"You're very observant." She opts for the compliment.

"Miss Mars - I don't mean to pry. It's just that" - the student looks down, and then up - "you don't _look_ okay."

Veronica drops the smile with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Valentina persists.

It takes another still moment before Veronica shrugs. She shakes her head and smiles grimly. "Life."

"Life?"

"Yeah - life."

The non-answer dangles in the air about them.

"Miss Mars - "

"Val, I'm fine." Veronica pulls to her feet. "Thanks for asking. I - I think there's someone waiting for you."

Luscious black locks toss in the air as Valentina whips around to look behind her.

"Don't let him lose the love, Val. Don't keep him waiting."

* * *

The sunset's golden hues don't greet her today as she slips into the lounge. Wide windows mean bright sunlight during the day, but they also mean barely-lit evenings sustained by a handful of pin lights.

She sees Mr. Rhodes bending over a stack of papers in the far corner. To her left, two female feet - probably Miss Summers's - peek out from a napping pod. She smiles a little. With finals coming in just over a week - why did she ever think she'd have the lounge to herself?

"Hey."

She almost jumps at his voice. She looks up.

Two feet away, Logan's offering her coffee with both hands, with all the solemnity of a tribal peace offering.

She picks up a smile for a second - then she drops it. She reaches for the cup, making sure her fingers don't brush against his.

 _Just relieving you of your awkward stance._

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The rueful smile he offers has her certain that he's regretting his slip of the tongue earlier today.

 _After all, what does he have to regret about me?_

She takes a sip to hide her face behind the cup's brim. He doesn't move away.

 _Well, this ain't awkward at all._

She gulps loudly. She tries a smile. "Late night?"

"Yeah." He hangs his head, appearing unusually defeated. "I had to finish up some papers."

She nods. "Finals?"

"No, actually." He surprises her. He seems to hesitate before looking at her again, grim smile in place. "Gotta catch up with work if I'm not reporting tomorrow."

"You're not?"

"Nope."

His single-word answer hangs potently between them.

She swallows. "Is something wrong?"

He shrugs.

"Doctor's visit?" She guesses.

He lets out a chuckle that's even more rueful than his earlier smile. "Suspension, actually. Apparently, the administration doesn't take well a teacher who insults a primary donor's daughter in class."

She furrows her brow, thinking. It dawns on her. "Lilly?"

He nods, head still half-hung.

"Logan, I'm sure it's not - "

"I shouldn't have," he cuts her off. He's blinking rapidly. "I know I should've known better - but I just - "

She waits for him to collect his thoughts.

"I just didn't want her to end up like her aunt, you know?" He finishes, eyes teary, as he looks straight at her. "You understand, right?"

"Of course." She half-breathes her response, every inch of her body longing to pull him into her arms.

 _Too bad there's an audience._

She limits herself to an understanding nod. "Of course I do. I, uhm - "

She looks around before turning back at him. "One sec."

* * *

California evening air can be surprisingly chilly.

His fingers curl around the edges of his jacket sleeves as he steps softly on the damp grass. He sighs.

"You okay?"

He looks down beside him. Her blue eyes glisten in the dark. He remembers a time, so very long ago, when the same eyes were set against another soccer field as green as this one.

He smiles. "Yeah - I guess. I mean, one day of suspension isn't gonna kill me."

She frowns, and his heart lightens with the knowledge that she probably cares - at least a little.

"Hey." His hand finds her shoulder. "It's alright, okay? Lilly - I said whatever was on my mind at that time. It wasn't wise - and I regret the timing."

He stops and turns to face her. "But I don't regret the content. She needed to know."

He's surprised by the tenderness in her gaze. "I know - it's not your fault."

 _Really?_

He bites back the sarcastic comment on his tongue. He opts for the simple. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They wordlessly resume their stroll across the new soccer field. The subtle breeze runs through his hair, and he tries not to think of how it must be gently tossing hers.

"Will Duncan be mad?"

He tries not to let the question bother him. "Should be fine. I mean, I did tell him my concerns - and he apparently 'let her off with a warning.'"

He could sense her shaking her head beside him. "He's an idiot."

 _I really shouldn't feel this happy hearing this._

"Should I pass on the message?"

She laughs a little. "I'm sure that if he still doesn't know I think he's being ridiculous, then he'll never get it."

"Alas, to miss out on the wisdom of Veronica Mars."

She chuckles and pulls to a stop. He also stops a step ahead and turns around to face her.

 _Is she upset?_

"Logan," she speaks softly, catching him by surprise, "what you did - she needed that, you know? If only someone had told the first Lilly - "

He grabs her into his arms before the sobbing starts. He feels the sniffles she's fighting against his chest. His own eyes grow misty.

"It's okay," he whispers into her hair. She doesn't reply, and he doesn't continue.

For a whole minute, the empty soccer field provides much-needed serenity for the two mourning souls.

She pulls back then. He lets her go.

He fights the urge to wipe her face with his hands. "You okay?"

She inhales deeply, nods, and exhales. "Yeah - it's just - you know."

"I know."

Her eyes look grateful for the understanding.

"So according to your rules, I didn't mess up?" He tries to sound light.

She gratifies him with a smile. "No - not at all. It was - necessary."

He nods. She takes another minute to wipe her face clean.

Then she smiles. "I'm proud of you, you know?"

"For getting suspended? Always knew you had a thing for - "

"For telling Lilly!" She protests with a friendly elbow to his rib. He fakes the pain with a laugh. She chuckles. "Like I said, she needed to hear it."

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling.

"Look at us." She heaves a big sigh. "Bonding over misbehaving students. Didn't know this was a thing."

"It _so_ is a thing. I believe that's how Principal Stacy met her husband."

"Are you seriously comparing me to that - "

"No, no, no, no," he instantly clarifies, fighting a grin, "just the height part, you know?"

She jabs him in the ribs again.

* * *

 _A/N: Hurray! After a laptop that went to the repair shop and back, a busy season at work, and very much editing, here's the next chapter at last. Deepest thanks to my faithful, patient readers. And thank you to irma66 for lending her time and eyes to check this. If you enjoyed this or noticed anything wrong, do let me know! :)_


	9. The Science of Self-Discovery

"No, no, no, no!" The pages sift through her frantic, teenaged hands. The early morning rays peek through the high windows, highlighting different portions of the blocks of text.

"Yeah, I know - it's so sad."

"How did you get these?" She searches Valentina's charcoal eyes for clues - answers - anything.

"Drey showed me. I think her mail gets sent to Mr. Fennel's address."

For a second, Sheila questions why this worries her so much. Images of Mr. Echolls's dreamy gaze in the hallway flit through her mind.

"So the rumors are true," she concludes, resigned.

"Yes, I guess." Valentina clutches her folders more tightly. "It's so sad though - I didn't know she was leaving."

"Orlando certainly hasn't said anything about it." Sheila's eyes roll up and back.

"Maybe he doesn't know?"

For a short moment, Sheila contemplates how much better of a person Valentina is compared to herself.

 _Gotta work on those trust issues._

But after Trina's breakdown that Orlando wasn't going to prom with Lilly - could anyone blame her for the unspoken insecurities?

"She's leaving tomorrow." Valentina's voice sounds hollow, broken.

Sheila ignores the sting in her eyes. "I feel for Mr. Echolls - it's been so many years."

Neither student clarifies how the other knows exactly how many years it's been. Parents can make excellent sources, sometimes.

"What if we stop her?"

The suggestion catches Sheila by surprise. An anxious and excited Valentina looks almost unrecognizable.

"Stop her?"

"Well, not us," Valentina retreats, blushing slightly, "I just thought, you know - maybe get Mr. Echolls to?"

The ingenuity of the plan dawns on her. Sheila grins. "Yes, of course. I mean, it would be _so_ sad if they grow apart again. 'lando said he found their _high school_ photos on his uncle's laptop."

"He must really like her." Wistfulness oozes from her every word.

"Like totally."

"So should we tell her?"

"Miss Mars?"

"I mean, if today's her last day - shouldn't she know that he cares?"

The cogs turn in her mind. "Yes."

"So we should tell her - "

"But not from us." Sheila's smile grows. "Remember what Miss Mars said yesterday? The most creditable source is always the man himself."

* * *

Hasty students patter their way down each hallway. The health freaks brush away in the bathrooms, jocks compete to see who burps lunch back out the loudest, and freshmen ladies powder up their noses, proudly contemplating how much older and wiser they are with months of high school under their belt.

Sliding quietly along the line of lockers, Sheila slips her way to class in the most private way she could manage. After last week's spectacle, she'd much rather keep things to herself.

 _Cuz it's Seaver who took after Dad._

She rounds a corner. Hoodie up, hands folded - she knows for a fact that she looks like every other 12-year-old harboring parkour dreams.

She dodges a highly-placed arm on a locker. She squeezes through the tight space between a group of giggling fangirls and the fire alarm.

 _Parkour? Heck, I could be a true blue ninja._

She inches towards yet another corner - the safe haven of her classroom a hundred steps away.

Pausing for a deep, long breath, she turns. By the time she hears the creaking metal door behind her, it's too late to turn.

"Whoah!" And she's tugged into darkness.

The door slams shut.

"Let go of me! What are you - "

"Shhh! Sheila!"

A quick flip of the light switch reveals a towering form two inches in front of her - his eyes mix merriment with mischief with pure delight. His hands, large and warm, hold her by the shoulder.

"'Lando? Seriously? Why would you think of - "

"How am I _ever_ going to charm milady without some subterfuge?" He grins, voice light.

"But - the _utility closet_? Really?" She fights the grin tugging at her lips. "I would think the son of an actress would be _way_ more origi - "

He cuts her off with a kiss - a gentle smooch, more teasing than forceful. She kisses him back, laughing.

"Kissing is a very juvenile way to end an argument, you know." She closes her eyes, smiling, as he kisses down her neck - his tall frame hunched over in the very tight space. She hums.

"Yes," he agrees, nudging her hoodie aside with his nose, "but it sure is an effective one."

"You wish."

"Yes, I do."

He pulls back up to her face and presses his lips firmly against hers.

She smiles through the kiss, her hands finding his collar while his found her waist. He presses her, by the small of her back, tightly against his body. She responds with hot tongue and parted lips.

 _Who cares of this is a rom-com cliché?_

She pulls back to catch her breath, knowing she's very much hot and bothered - and knowing that the wicked gleam in Orlando's eyes shows just how much he knows her to be. She bites the side of her lower lip. Then she smirks. "And what would your mother say of the sly, slutty fox who leads her son astray?"

Orlando laughs as he presses his forehead against hers. He smiles. "After hearing Anna's complaints the other night, I would say she's probably _very_ happy with my choice."

"Anna?"

"Lilly's mom." He starts kissing her jawline again.

Eyes hooded, she struggles to keep her thoughts clear. "What did she say?"

"About Seaver." He kisses her neck.

"Wait - what?" She shoves his delightful lips from her collar back to their normal height. "Seaver?"

"When he hooked up with Lilly?"

"Ew, gross - where?"

"At her house - on her parents' bed, of all places."

She feels the bile crawling up her throat. "My brother banged Lilly?"

"Anna caught 'em in the act, I heard."

"Ugh," Sheila groans. Her eyes slam shut in a vain attempt to avoid the image. She re-opens them. "And your mom somehow knows about this?"

Orlando lets out a stifled groan of his own. "She's always trying to find ways to ingratiate herself to the Kanes. So when they met at a soiree the other day - my mom was all over Mrs. Kane, asking about Lilly."

She listens on, wide-eyed.

"So, uhm - yeah. Mrs. Kane made it clear just how unhappy she was with her stepdaughter defiling her bed."

 _Defiling - gross._

She scrunches her face. "So - I'm supposed to be thankful that your mom now approves of me as the sibling of the guy who is stupid enough to get involved with Lilly Kane?"

Orlando chuckles. At her glare, he reaches for her hands, trapping both of them between his hands and chest. "She's happy because I'm with a girl who values herself enough not to put out like Lilly."

"Ha, toldya you'd be grateful. Second base ain't all that bad." She gives him a playful shove. "So Trina's all about chastity now?"

"Only for her kid." He kisses her nose. "Grown-ups have very specific double standards, you know."

"Ah - so what would happen if I actually _do_ put out?"

He freezes, trading his gentle nuzzling for a long, hot stare. He licks his lips. "You would?"

"Probably not for a while," she draws out her words, teasing. "Unlike Lilly, I actually _do_ get grounded for unapproved behavior."

Orlando's low, rich chuckle surprises her.

"What?"

"Apparently, Anna said Lilly's been grounded for the first time ever. You didn't notice Seaver being home all week?"

 _Come to think of it._

"Well, they should be happy - being grounded together and all."

"If they catch us doing this" - he plants a big, sloppy, happy kiss on her jaw - "we would be too."

"I'd much rather not." She smiles before kissing him on the lips. "We got work to do around here."

"I can beg my uncle not to count you late." He kisses her again, and again.

"Not about that," she snaps. "But yes - about him."

He pulls back instantly. "Just making sure - if you're anything like those girls with teacher fantasies, I swear - I'm gonna - "

"Not with me! Duh!" Sheila protests with fists to his chest. She makes an utterly disgusted face. "Like, seriously. Gross."

"Yes, gross - very good." He catches her by the waist, smiling. " _What_ about my uncle?"

"See? _That's_ what I'm talking about."

* * *

She hides her shaking fingers by balling them into fists.

 _Thank God for long-sleeved blazers._

She takes some time to note each face, some more comforting than others. Logan, nestled comfortably, and Wallace, dangling off the arm, occupy a loveseat halfway between her and the glorious glass windows. Other less familiar faculty members sit, stand, or sip coffee from scattered parts of the lounge. She gulps.

"Miss Mars?"

She turns to see Principal Stacy's impatient frown. She lets out a breath that blends scoff and sigh. She nods.

 _Here goes nothing._

"I - I, uhm, thank you all for the time here."

She fights the urge to roll her arms into a protective shield in front of her. Inside her mouth, her tongue contorts into a dozen different poses, unwilling to help her with the actual talking. She hangs her head, looks up, looks askance, looks up, looks down - and then up once more.

"I really enjoyed my time - subbing for Mrs. Hawkins. I, uhm - liked it better than I thought I would!"

 _Since when have I gotten socially awkward?_

She wrings her hands and stares at them, her long hair obscuring part of the view. She could almost _see_ the impatience on her colleagues' faces.

 _Cuz to them - I'm just another passerby._

The thought sobers her, and she looks up again. She comments some more, "I thank Principal Stacy for this chance to teach - and to give this little farewell speech, of course."

She chuckles mirthlessly. A handful of teachers respond with the same.

She inhales, deeply. "And I thank my stepbrother and friend, Mr. Wallace Fennel, for even pointing me to this position in the first place."

Two dozen sporadic claps hit the room and cease right after.

She nods about nothing in particular. "And I thank you all, of course, for making me feel so welcome."

Her eyes glance through each person in the room - from career fair buddy to club coordinator - from math teacher to yearbook sponsor - from uptight principal to the love of her -

She catches her breath. The tears threaten to come.

 _Should I even try again?_

She looks at him once more. Leaning forward from his seat, he looks the perfect mix of anxious, sad, and encouraging.

 _Dark grey looks great on him._

"Miss Mars?" The principal call, voice commanding.

 _My speech - right._

After a long, deep breath of bravado, she looks straight at Logan.

"And I hope - that to you - I'm not just a passerby. I'm not just someone who comes into your life for a few months, makes a mess, and whisks herself out again. I'm not a friend who disappears on you right after we start classifying each other that way. I won't evaporate out of your life - and I won't forget every little laugh, every little hug, and every little moment from this chapter. There will be times when I might look like I've forgotten - but I never will. Working here has allowed me to remember every single thing that I used to have - to relive each rush and each heartbeat. It's allowed me to see what I've lost - and who knows? Maybe it's also helped me to find it again."

She pauses for breath, chest heaving. Even from a distance, she could see his eyes glisten. She blinks, hard, and continues, voice softer, "Subbing for Mrs. Hawkins has been one of the best decisions of my entire life - and I want to thank you all for sharing it with me."

"Thank you, Miss Mars!" And the principal promptly ushers her away from the front of the room. "Alright, everybody! Five minutes to first period. Get moving!"

* * *

The world freezes, shrinks, crumbles, forms, expands, and resumes its course - all without any further comfort.

 _Pause, shatter, restore, repeat._

He inhales, bracing himself by the hands he's planted behind himself on the desk.

"Mr. Echolls?"

He vaguely recognizes Valentina's voice.

 _'Friends.' She said 'friends.'_

He lifts a hand to his face. His fingers knead his frown deeper.

 _She said 'friends' - alright?_

"Mr. Echolls?"

For the first time in years, he wishes he'd never taken this job. He sighs.

After a handful of quiet seconds, he peeks at the class. From left to right - and front to back - the students sit nervously. Their bodies lean forward in their seats. Their brows frown.

 _What am I doing?_

He straightens himself up - with very great effort. He clears his throat. "So, right - where were we again?"

"Uhm, Cyrano loved Roxanne?" Valentina suggests, voice cautious.

 _Ah - right._

It was the phrase that started the mental spiral in the first place.

Bracing himself, Logan resumes his lecture. "So, yes - while some critics claim that Cyrano had never loved Roxanne - but merely the idea of her" - he pauses for another gulp - "I personally believe he genuinely cared."

The students stare back. From pity or uninterest - he couldn't tell, for once.

"His refusal to pursue Roxanne as himself," he continues, still frowning, "while writing her love letters on behalf of Christian, shows a lack of confidence - rather than a lack of affection."

He looks at the class. Their unified focus throws him off.

 _Are they just staring?_

He speaks a little louder. "It is _selfless_ love - the highest form of love there is - that spurs Cyrano to do what he did. While it may seem foolish to woo a woman he loves for another man, he is content with knowing that he did the best for Roxanne."

He sighs; then he forces a very small smile. "And _that_ is the evidence of his love - that he let her have what she wanted, rather than force her to have him."

Emotionally spent, Logan almost misses Sheila's voice pipe up from the leftmost seat on the second row. Her question tumbles out of her in a slew of feminine words.

Logan looks up. "I'm sorry, Sheila - yes?"

"What if it _is_ him?" The student stares back at him, eyes wide. Her voice and her face match in their urgent concern.

"What is?"

"What she wants," Sheila maintains, tone frustrated.

His frown buries deeper into his forehead. "Huh?"

"Ugh!" Sheila's fingers fly up her neck and into her hair, pull tightly, and let go again. "Mr. Echolls, please - I mean, what if Roxanne _wanted_ to be with Cyrano all along? What if he messed it all up by never speaking for himself?"

"Cyrano, knowing his limits, understood he could never be whom she wanted."

"Why not?"

"He was flawed. He was broken - "

"He was a hero! He was a romantic! What else could she possibly - "

"He wasn't whole, Sheila!" Logan's outcry silences the class for a moment. He breathes heavily, as if reeling from battle. His eyes sting.

The students perpetuate the calm, suspenseful silence until he spoke again.

"He wasn't whom she deserved," Logan adds, voice empty.

Sheila licks her lips - then answers, gently, "Why not?"

"She wouldn't have picked him."

"Was she ever given the chance to choose?"

The question, laden with meaning, hangs thickly in the air. Even Seaver stays silent.

Logan, a hundred emtions flooding his veins, strides back behind his desk. He leans forward with his fists on the table. He knows his face sags like a tired old man - but at the moment, he _feels_ exactly like a tired old man.

Then he says, "At least this way, she spared Cyrano the pain of choosing Christian to his face."

* * *

"Miss Mars?"

The simple words take a few seconds to register. She pulls back as they do. She blinks. "Yes, Sheila?"

"Do your hands hurt?"

The unexpected question has Veronica checking her wrists. Having leaned her chin on them motionlessly for the past thirty minutes, she _knows_ they'll hurt for a while.

She tries to soften the sigh that escapes her. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Uhm - do you need anything?"

For a split second, the kind student sports a mischievous grin, imaginary devil horns spiking against the background of typing students. Her voice, however, sounds innocent enough. "There's that basketball article that we need to finish for the next issue. Could I head over to the gym while practice is still in session? It'll be easier to interview all the players if they're already in one place."

 _Why can't I just excuse myself the way you do?_

Veronica smiles faintly. "Sure. I know your section's already done."

Sheila nods, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Miss Mars. And, uhm - Orlando's taking pictures for the article. He can come too, right?"

The teacher temporarily forgets her melancholy at the sight of the ill-disguised attempt. She grins knowingly. "Really? You and Orlando - just taking pictures?"

Sheila blushes to her roots without denying anything. Her hands wind tighter around her clipboard. "If you don't trust me - us, Miss Mars, you could always send someone - "

Veronica chuckles. She looks up, smiling. "Of course I trust you, Sheila. But Orlando - uhm, I don't know about that."

"I heard that." The tall teen appears beside his girlfriend.

For a second, Veronica contemplates the very charming height difference between the two. She shakes her head. "Anyway, trustworthy or not, school policy won't let me send you too off alone. Valentina?"

Weevil's daughter, seated at the nearest desk, turns around. "Yes, Miss Mars?"

"Guess it's your turn to play chaperone. I know you're just double-checking."

"Yes, Miss Mars."

For a second, Veronica feels quietly self-satisfied. After all, it takes an observant teacher to -

 _Wait, what?_

The gleeful smiles and sudden skips in Valentina's, Sheila's, and Orlando's steps as they rush out into the hallway cause her to pause.

 _What's going on?_

* * *

The last ten minutes till five o'clock fly by faster than an F1 race car. Veronica sighs.

 _Why?_

She looks at her students from her desk, each toiling away at his or her respective spot, and she ponders the growth each one has shown. She looks at the stations themselves - from computers to printers to the proofing table the class christened last week - and she feels her chest grow warm.

 _Why?_

She lets out a long, slow sigh. Why does she have to leave this happy place?

 _Because you have a job, idiot._

She blinks fast. What job could be more important than a place to call home?

Frowning, she lets her fingers trace the edge of her desk in empty motion. Somewhere along the way, the desk has evolved in her mind from 'Mrs. Hawkins's table' to her own. The students have stopped being borrowed. The colleagues have stopped being temporary friends. The lounge, man, the lounge -

Her eyes water at the recollection of her impromptu farewell speech that morning.

 _He hasn't said a single word!_

Angry, she wipes her brimming eyes with the back of her hand.

 _I put my heart out like that, and he -_

"Miss Mars! Miss Mars!"

Valentina's small heels click faster than a speedy typewriter as she runs into the room, hands wide open. She turns quickly to face the teacher's desk. "Miss Mars!"

Veronica pulls to her feet just in time for the sweet student to collapse into her arms. She cries hoarsely into her teacher's shoulder.

Bewildered, Veronica looks at the male student who has just stumbled into the room. She narrows her eyes. "Drey?"

"Miss Mars." Breathless, he rushes towards the embracing women. Veronica pulls the helpless figure in her arms a small step back.

"Drey, what did you do?" She makes sure her voice sounds non-negotiating..

"Miss Mars, I didn't to anything." Drey protests, face frowning. "It wasn't me. It was an accident. Seriously, I promise."

 _Yeah, sure._

"What happened?" she demands.

"Well, Mr. Echolls - nobody expected it - I mean, he was bleeding and - "

 _What?_

She barely notices that the student has stopped his words at an awkward place. She lurches forward, only to notice the crying girl still in her arms. After a moment's thought, she gently lifts Valentina away from her body and focuses on the student's puffy eyes.

"Val." Veronica fights - with her every last bit of strength - to keep her voice calm and assured. "What happened to Mr. Echolls?"

Drey speaks up in place of Valentina's wordless sobs. His voice sounds at once clipped and broken. "There was an accident at the gym, Miss Mars. Mr. Echolls was looking at us practice and he came over for a question and the beam broke and it hit him and he - "

Every face in the room turns and hangs on Drey's stuttering words. The athlete breathes heavily before continuing, "Coach Wallace - he called 911 cuz the nurse couldn't help him and he was bleeding and they took him out to the soccer field and the paramedics were confused and there was - "

"Drey!" Veronica, crying student cast aside, grips her stepbrother by the shoulders. "Are they still there?"

"I think they are, I mean - "

She's gone before he finishes the thought.

* * *

He alternates flipping his pen and tapping its tip on the table. He glances at the clock's unkind speed and frowns.

 _Is it so hard, man?_

Dropping the pen, he pulls up, aligning his rolling chair with the table, and runs his open hands over his face like a tired, haggard, old man for the second time that day. Logan sighs into them.

 _'What if he messed it up by never speaking for himself?'_

Sheila's pointed question echoes in his mind as he rubs his face again. At that moment in class, he was sure of his answer. Roxanne, with handsome Christian as a suitor, couldn't have possibly wanted to be with Cyrano and his over-blessed nose. With so many possibilities ahead of her, she couldn't have wanted to be tied down to a man who was flawed, hurting, self-loathing, and -

He breathes in sharply, frowns, and exhales.

 _Who am I kidding?_

He pushes himself off his seat and wanders over to the bulletin board. He leans his forehead against the cork.

 _In what way do I even measure up to Cyrano?_

He almost hits the board with his fist. He knew he'd wanted to let her go - let her soar for her dreams, let her roam free from the clutches of Neptune. She's always been talking about 'getting out' - and she did. She's just visiting, resting - probably reminding herself of why she doesn't belong here in the first place. It's always been the plan to let her go.

But he hadn't counted on it being this hard.

Cuz on this side of thirty, he _knows_ just how slim the chances were - how impossible it was for them to walk into each other's lives again just like they did.

 _And yet we did._

A sharp, urgent series of knocks draws his attention to the door.

"Logan! Uncle Lo!" The familiar teenaged voice cuts through the wood. The door jiggles against its frame. "Uncle Lo!"

"Come in!" He calls out, still puzzled.

The door moves violently against its hinges, rattling futilely.

 _Did I lock it?_

Logan strides over and throws the door open to a _very_ anxious-looking Orlando.

"What?"

"Miss Mars," Orlando mumbles between heavy breaths, "she fell."

"Fell?" He frets.

"At the soccer field."

"Soccer field," Logan repeats, dubious. "You know she's a former FBI agent. She doesn't just _fall_."

"Well, they said she, like, tripped - or something." Orlando leans against the frame, still panting.

"Tripped?"

"Maybe, I dunno." The student lets his eyes fly up and then down as he shrugs. "It could be the 'or something' part."

Logan frowns, seriously bothered. "And you ran all the way over here, cuz it's _that_ urgent."

Orlando nods manically.

 _What on earth?_

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Orlando insists, still panting dramatically, "I left the moment she hit her head. I mean, she was bleeding, and there was red on the grass, and it was _so_ horrible. I knew you'd want to know, and I - "

Logan clutches his nephew by the shoulders. His eyes zoom in on his. "What happened?"

"She - fell."

"And?"

"And she's - I left without knowing. I knew you'd want to know. And, I mean, we could go check it out, you know?"

The whirring sounds of a loud ambulance hit the hallway just then. Logan glances at its direction.

He gulps.

Orlando is only half-walking as they speed down the hallway, the younger's collar in his uncle's fist.

* * *

A sliver of sun peeks over the unique California blend of buildings and trees. To her, the soccer field looks unsettling in its emptiness, with its glass blades waving gently in the breeze as the only source of movement. The chatter of students set free feels eerily absent this afternoon - replaced by a hollow, deserted field.

 _Maybe they all left with him._

Her eyes water for a second, reflecting her inner turmoil, as she finally reaches the field. She searches her surroundings in vain.

 _Is this how we're saying goodbye? By NOT saying it?_

She inhales, long and slow. The chilly air pierces her lungs as her arms wrap tightly around herself. If there's anything worse than leaving behind Logan Echolls - it was leaving an _injured_ Logan Echolls. She'd be tortured the whole entire flight.

 _I guess Mac was right._

She allows herself to crouch down for a moment, resting the weight of her emotions on her tiptoes. In a small instant of quiet clarity, the entire reason for her joy these past months dawns on her in irrefutable terms. The epiphany feels simultaneously liberating and dense.

It's him - it's him all along.

Why she ever allowed herself to think she'd wanted anyone - anything else - baffles her. It's always been him. Always has been.

 _Always will be._

Her breaths grow shorter as she recalls the urgency of her plight. She pulls back up to her feet, her eyes scanning any clues for where the ambulance has gone.

 _Logan._

Her heart burns into her chest, painful and desperate. What would she ever do without -

"Veronica!"

She spins around at his voice, noting slightly that he sounds far healthier than he was supposed to. Her heart leaps to her throat as she sees him walking - no, running - towards her. She steps forward involuntarily.

She doesn't get a single word out before she's enveloped in his warm, earnest embrace. Her hands snake around him, pressing him close. She inhales his scent - summer and ocean and sunshine - in greedy, heady lungfuls. She feels his nose and lips press against her hair. She leans closer, nuzzling his neck.

He pulls back first - voice hoarse and anxious as he mutters, "Are you okay? Is everything fine? What happened? What - "

He cut himself off by pulling her against his chest again. She lets him.

For several minutes, they stay where they are - clinging to each other as decades' worth of emotions course between them. He gathers her closely; she pulls him in tight.

A series of unsuccessfully stifled giggles bring them back to reality.

She hesitantly steps back from his arms. She smiles at him, uncertain. He smiles back - gaze deep and warm.

Another giggle - a blatant one - grabs her attention. She could feel both of them scanning the suspiciously empty field. They find nothing, except for stray pigtails and jacket tails peeking out behind the bleachers.

 _I need students as my wingman._

She blushes at the very pathetic, but very true, thought.

"Hey."

She looks up at his voice. His eyes carry emotions she can't even begin to name. She braves it a little. "Hey yourself."

The smile he responds with is generous and real and wonderful. And if she hadn't decided ten years ago that swooning was strictly too childish for anyone above twenty, she would have -

 _Heck, I'm swooning now._

She tames her smile into as adult a representative as she can manage. "You look okay."

"Uhm, yeah." His hand flies behind his neck, smoothing that imaginary stress spot. "I take it - you didn't fall?"

She almost giggles. "And I take it a beam didn't break in the gym and crack your neck."

He smiles bashfully. She finds it the most heart-warming image she's seen in a long, long time. She sighs, happy. "You know, I never thought there'd come a day when I'm outsmarted by people half my age."

She's quite sure they both hear the repressed chuckles.

"Right." He smiles - then suddenly doesn't. His hands plug into his pockets as his face falls into a very somber look. "I - you must be glad to leave it all behind you then."

The initial hurt gives way to compassion at the obvious nature of his pain. She ventures a tiny step closer. "Who?"

"The - students," he mumbles, eyes downcast.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They stand silently for another three sconds. She could almost feel the students ready to pounce. She scrambles for something smart, something touching, something iconic to say.

"I leave tomorrow," her strained mind makes her mutter instead.

"I know."

She allows herself a single sniff, hopelessly wishing that her heart could speak in place of her tongue. Her hands hover mere inches from his wrists, and she's suddenly aware how badly she wants to reach for them.

"I hope you have a great trip," he offers lamely - and she's _this_ close to embarrassing herself completely.

She inhales, holding back tears, snot, and whatnot. And with one look into his soulful eyes, suggests, "But what if I don't?"

The question seems to take him by surprise. He meets her eyes again, searching. His voice sounds a strange mix of hope and fear. "Don't what?"

"Don't leave."

 _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._

"But - you have a job." The calmness of his words contrasts with the depth of his eyes - his soul-searching, heartbreaking eyes.

 _This is it._

Her voice comes out barely a whisper. "Only if I accept it."

The realization dawns on his face like a slow, gradual sunrise - the kind so beautiful you wonder if it would ever actually happen. "You didn't?"

His two words weigh a million pounds each.

And so do hers. "Not yet."

"And - why is that?" His voice quivers. She knows he's as close to losing his cool as she is hers.

"Because I - could stay."

The two seconds he stops and stares before his next words almost has her running. But then he breathes, and he whispers, voice tender, "You would?"

"I _could_ ," she corrects him, fighting the impulse to hug him and pretend all this talking never happened.

"Right." He leans closer, so close she could smell his comforting scent. "But - would you?"

She blinks. "Do I have a reason to?"

"Maybe?" he whispers back.

With an enormous amount of willpower, she takes a step back. "That's not gonna cut it, you know."

"Alright. Uhm, sure?" He looks at her, puppy dog eyes as powerful as the day she first saw them as a 12-year-old.

She shakes her head.

"Please?" he offers.

"Better."

"Pretty please?" He's leaning close again.

She inhales.

 _Just tell him, girl._

"Look." She pauses, hands on his biceps, allowing him to stay posed two inches away. "I just need something a little more substantial, you know?"

"Substantial?" His eyes sear into hers.

"Yes, substantial - you know, a reason that's big enough, that's sure enough, that - "

His lips press firmly onto hers, and she promptly forgets everything else she's been planning to say. Because _this,_ right _now_ , is the most intoxicating feeling in her entire life.

In her peripheral consciousness, she hears a handful of giggles, gasps, and even squeals. She feels the warmth of the sun disappear as it dips beneath the horizon, like a curtain dropping on a successful finale. She senses a low rumble in her stomach after too many hours unfed.

But they all don't matter.

Not one bit.

What matters are the large, warm hands crushing her against Logan's torso. What matters is the way his warm breath tickles her collar after every dozen kisses. What matters is the taste of his lips - his tongue - mixed with the scent of his body as it beckons her home.

Home.

 _I'm home._

The revelation makes her kiss him back with newfound abandon. Her fingers dig into his back as her tongue plunges into his mouth. His lips devour hers, ravenous - as passionate as he's always been.

Perhaps more so.

Because there's nothing like fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years away to make them realize just how badly they belong here, _together_.

They pull back minutes later, breaths short and lips swollen; but he makes sure she's still anchored against his hip. She grins, not complaining. His gaze caresses her face as tenderly as his lips did mere moments ago.

He smiles. "Is that - _substantial_ enough?"

"I dunno." She smiles back, hands hooked behind his neck. "I might need to double - or triple - check. But hey, maybe we should ask _them."_

She barely has the words out before Sheila, Orlando, Valentina, and Drey, running wildly, pull them into a giant group hug. The cellphones, eye drops, and fake alarm lie scattered all over the soccer field.

But they could all care less.

* * *

 _A/N: Now the only thing left is the epilogue :) I hope reading this story made you as happy as I was writing it! I am extremely proud of this chapter, which took me a truckload of emotions to write. The only thing I'm prouder of is probably the last chapter of WFMF. Heaven knows how hard THAT was to write. Many thanks to the readers who have stuck with me through thick and thin, particularly irma66 for being a faithful beta. Do leave your thoughts!_


	10. Advanced Commencement Studies

"You sure about this?"

"Well, _fifteen years_ is kind of a long time to wait for a second, second date."

"Fine, fine, I'll make it worth it."

"With what?"

"Extra kisses with some snuggling on the side?"

" _You're_ the snuggler."

"I am not!"

"So are." He grins as they finally pull up to the parking spot. The smell of sizzling steak and gravy beckon them inside. He turns to face her. "You're not an agent anymore. You know that, right? Teachers are allowed to be mushy."

She pretends to stop him as he reaches over to nibble down her jaw. "You _had_ to do it when we're outdoors in a convertible."

"Whatever." He nips her earlobe, eliciting a very loud moan.

 _He is so going to mention that all night._

"This was the deal - no public dates until school's out for the summer," he says between kisses that have now trailed up to her mouth. "So I get to make you moan as _much_ as I can and want."

 _Called it._

Too busy kissing him back, she doesn't bother rebuffing him.

"And you agree." He pulls back after a loud smooch.

 _Huh?_

"I did not!" She notices for a moment how young she sounds. She frowns. "When did I agree?"

"You kissed me back," he declared, still grinning. "That means you agree."

"What?" She doesn't grab him in time before he slips out of the car.

 _Man, my reflexes suck now._

"Yes, that's how it works," he announces proudly as he crosses the back of the car to her side.

"And why is that?"

"Cuz I said so." He's smiling unabashedly, bliss all over his face, as he opens the car to hand her out.

She can't help smiling back.

"You know you can't go all Echolls on me, right?" She adds, heels landing on the gravel.

"Oh, I can." His hands snake around her waist; he leans in to peck her nose. Then he whispers by her ear. "I _so_ can go _all_ Echolls _on_ you."

She doesn't get the chance to swat his arm before he's kissing her again.

* * *

"What if students see us?"

He gives her a pointed look across the top of their menus. "You're still fooling yourself that the video Sheila took hasn't gone viral all over school?"

"Yeah, I guess." She sighs, dropping her bulky menu flat on the table in the process.

"What's wrong?" He responds in an instant, hand over her own.

She looks up at him, gazing into the chocolate eyes that have accompanied her so faithfully for the past months. She smiles a little, shrugging. "Nothing, really. It's just - I don't want anything else about this relationship to be more public than it already has been."

"Understood. No Youtube proposals."

She slaps his hand playfully, and he retracts it with a smile.

 _If only._

The proposal jokes started about two months into dating, when they were still under Principal Stacy's watchful eye, banned from the lounge for three weeks thanks to breaking the no-making-out-in-school rule for faculty. Knowing Logan, she wasn't surprised that his mind was headed that way. What's surprising her is the rising frequency of those jokes - without corresponding action.

"Yeah, leave that to Wallace," she answers instead, turning back to the menu. "Penelope seemed to love it enough."

"Right," he answers, nonchalant, as he scans his own copy of food choices. "I keep forgetting they're engaged already."

"Yeah, that happened _so_ fast," she mumbles, choosing between big steak, small steak, garlic steak, and a dozen other iterations. "Never took Wallace to be the whirlwind romance type, really."

"That's better off than Dick and Mac - took him three years to propose." Logan chuckles, eyes reminiscent. "He was nervous as _hell_."

"Good. He didn't deserve her anyway."

She looks up when he doesn't answer - and meets his 'come on, seriously?' look.

She lifts her hands for a moment. "Fine, sorry. We've agreed to disagree."

"Thank you." And he's back to his menu.

 _Really? Thank you? That's it?_

"At least they're the only couple we disagree about." She decides on the classic medium porterhouse.

"I did tell your father Alicia was a catch. He was so whipped."

He laughs when she stares at him, royally annoyed.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "I'm kidding about that one - but hey, at least the presence of a stepmother gives you more reason to move over with me, right?"

"I'm just glad Orlando wasn't traumatized. I mean, _two_ teachers living in his house? People go to therapy for these things."

"Especially when those teachers are boning each other."

His eyes smile up at her despite the hand she's shoved over his mouth.

"Logan!" she warns.

He lifts his hands in a surrendering gesture, and she finally lets go.

"I'm kidding, okay?" He laughs, the small lines at the edge of his eyes lifting up charmingly. "Or not."

She glares at him, and he laughs again.

They set aside their conversation for a few more minutes to place their orders. Then their waitress backs away, restoring their privacy.

"Look, Lo, I'm serious." She reaches over once the waitress is out of sight, taking his willing hands into her own. She puts on her most earnest face. "The students all know we're dating, so we need to set a good example, you know? People talk."

"They don't know about Stacy grounding us, if that's what you're worried about." He squeezes her hands before pulling them up for a kiss. "We don't do much PDA besides that."

"Other than smoldering gazes? Yeah, nothing much."

"I can't help it if my eyes are charming," he teases.

She smiles up at him, all seriousness. "Yeah, they are."

 _Charming and very distracting._

A spare thought has her staring down on her empty placemat.

"Hey." He squeezes her hands again. "What's wrong?"

 _You._

"Nothing," she mutters.

"Come on." He leans over the table, hovering close. "You can tell me."

 _Could I?_

She licks her lips, considering.

Another nudge on her hands has her looking up and giving it a go. "I'm just worried that - with the whole school knowing we're together - if we ever break up, it's - it's gonna be just as public, you know?"

The frown that clouds his face has her in instant regret.

"Logan, I don't mean that - "

"Would you break up with me?" His question is weighted, heavy with pain and worry.

"No, of course not," she answers right away, more confidently than she expected of herself. It's her turn to squeeze his hands. "I'm just worried about you. I mean, Neptune - it's your whole life, you know? And if this doesn't work out - "

"I'll never leave you, Veronica." His gaze sears into hers. His words sound as certain as the sun. "Never. So the only reason we could possibly break up is - "

"No!" She leans closer, clutching at his palms. "Not me. No."

The worry recedes from his face for a little bit. "And not me, okay?"

But she still can't ignore those abandonment issues. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Never?"

"Yes."

"But how could I - " She bites her lip for a minute, disappointed at her own childishness. She pauses - but the words tumble out, "how could I know there's not going to be another Tiffany? Another Madison? Another Hannah? What if you get tired of me? What if you decide you don't want _this_ anymore? Can you promise that you - "

She cuts herself off with an untimely sniff. She tries all her might to keep it from growing into an actual sob.

"There is a way to promise that, you know." His voice is suddenly quiet. She meets his eyes. "I just didn't know you'd let me."

* * *

 ** _One year later._**

* * *

"Graduates, I repeat. Your caps and gowns must be kept in _proper_ condition. Students who march with any damaged or derailed gowns will suffer consequences."

 _Good luck having them care. Everyone recognizes your empty threats._

Cuz after extensive interaction, maybe the little principal isn't that intimidating, after all.

"You sure I look okay?"

Yanked out of her PA announcement woes, Veronica looks up at the student - the graduate's - pensive face, a face crowned by his gloriously upright hair. She smiles. "You know you'll look great to Wallace no matter what, right?"

For a second, an almost shy expression emerges on the athlete's face. The kid shrugs. "Yeah, I mean - pictures are gonna have to do."

Suddenly, she's kicking herself for mentioning it at all.

"Hey." She grabs Drey by the shoulders. "You know he'd do anything to be here, right?"

He frowns, diverting his gaze.

"No one could have predicted that Penelope would go into labor this morning. It's unfortunate, I know; but I _know_ he'll be celebrating with you, okay?"

The maternal tone proves effective, and Drey re-meets her eyes with a tentative smile.

"Besides, I'll be streaming everything live to him. So, you know, sorry, doc." She smiles up at him, swearing internally that the kid's gained five more inches the past year.

"Drey!" The exuberant female voice grabs both their attention.

Veronica watches as Drey shrugs away her hands in the blink of an eye and opens up his arms to a beaming Valentina. The young girl jumps off the hardwood and straight into her boyfriend's arms as he lifts her up at an angle. Despite the audience, he gives her a deep, longing kiss.

"We're finally here!" Valentina huffs breathlessly when she's finally restored to her own two feet. Her eyes practically twinkle as she smiles up at Drey, her youthfulness radiating off her in beautiful waves. "I love you."

"And I love you," he replies dutifully.

And Veronica can't help but smile.

* * *

"It'll be fine, man. It's okay!" Logan comforts his nephew and student for the nth time that day.

"Do you any idea how embarrassing this is?" Orlando groans, throwing his head back against the makeshift cardboard wall from the stool where he sits.

 _Do I?_

He places a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I know it sounds mortifying right now, okay? I get it. But it's gonna be over soon, and all you're gonna do is look back and laugh one day."

"Right after TMZ airs my mother in her ostrich plumes."

If it isn't contrasted with Principal Stacy's pressing announcements, his laments are almost amusing. Feeling sympathetic, Logan casts a glance towards the bleachers - and the bright spot of cascading orange and fuchsia couture smack in the middle of the third row.

Laughing, crying, frowning, and losing his temper seem to all be viable reaction choices at the moment. He looks down at Orlando's distraught face and offers a grim smile. "I'll tell her the professional cameras stay out of the gym."

The 'thanks' is implied in the nephew's nod.

"Graduates, please proceed to your lineup _now_. I repeat, _now_."

Logan walks away, thoughts heavy and heart light. The chance to make it right for Orlando - to ensure that the life of a celebrity child has as much normalcy as possible - has been the best thing to ever happen to him.

He skips sideways when he almost trips on an electric cord.

"Oomph! Watch out!"

He finds himself supported by the elbows with two pale, slender hands. He smiles down at his wife, gorgeous and glowing. She smiles back.

 _Sorry, Orlando, let's make that second best._

* * *

For Logan, the very first graduation he witnessed as a teacher was memorable. It involved sniffling and hugging and some varying degrees of reconciliation as he congratulated Clemmons' youngest, Weevil's cousin, and Mac's little brother.

The second time was moving - familiar and comforting while still remarkable.

The third was surprisingly painful. It was, after all, the day he bid farewell to the first class he'd welcomed to high school - scrawny sophomores turned to beaming seniors. These were the kids who didn't see him with Aaron's name or alumni stigma or the word 'new' attached to his name. For them, he was simply Mr. Echolls, loving English teacher.

Seeing them leave, however, had felt like a stab to the heart.

 _Then I stopped keeping count._

His right hand absent-mindedly runs back and forth the top of the plastic seat. His eyes gaze lazily at the hardwood and its growing group of caps and gowns.

"You know he'll do great, right?"

Her voice, as always, warms his heart. Smiling, he leans and leaves a kiss on her temple. She and Orlando combined make this _the_ most personal graduation he'll ever attend. He whispers lightly, "Without your tutoring, I doubt he'd have gotten those 800's. I mean, Stanford, baby."

"Oh, come on." She slides her left hand on his thigh. He smiles at the sparkle from her rings. "Give credit where credit's due. It wasn't all me."

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't Trina's genes." He laughs softly.

"You know I didn't mean her, right?" She smiles up at him, her face gentle and genuine. Her hand squeezes his thigh a little. He tries to ignore the jolt of electricity.

 _Not here, not now._

"I didn't do much, really." He focuses on the conversation. "I was his teacher at school, but it was all you back home."

She laughs then - that bright, happy laughter that means she's teasing him yet again. His hand finds her shoulder, squeezing.

"What?"

"I wasn't the one tutoring your nephew most of the time." Her eyes divert towards the now-lined-up graduates. For a second, she tilts her face towards the front of the line. "She was."

"Right - no argument here."

The sensual smile she gives him sends all sorts of amorous thoughts pumping in his brain; he tries his best to ignore the resurfacing memories from last night's exciting session, filing the images away for a better time.

With his free hand, he picks up the fingers she had on his thigh and lifted them to his lips, kissing gently. His nose bumps against her bulky solitaire.

 _Cuz if she only wanted one diamond - I was gonna get the largest one I could possibly find._

Lips still grazing the back of her hand, his heart swells for a moment at the joy of the hour. He ponders how incredibly blessed he truly is, how unusual their circumstances. He smiles again at the memory of blissful surprise - at the thought of the day when she, against all odds, agreed to let him add the second ring so soon after the first.

"Hey." Her whisper brings him back to the present.

"Yeah?" He nuzzles her nose with his.

She laughs. "We're starting, silly. And Stacy is glaring at us again."

He humphs boisterously. "Whatever. School's out. She can't ground us again."

* * *

"Samantha Burkins, Ashley Clemmons, Garrett Dashwood, Orlando Echolls." Principal Stacy recites each name with iconic stoicism. Perhaps for her, there really isn't anything special left to cherish around here.

 _But there is for me._

The crowd may cheer, the parents may cry, the students may roar, and Sheila Vandergraff may give the best valedictory speech in the history of Neptune High - but there is little that can move the strict woman to let down her guard. But then Logan smiles, resolving firmly to disallow his boss from ruining one of the proudest days of his life.

Gladness renewed, he draws his wife closer against him as he watches Trina's hysterics, and Orlando's corresponding blush, out of the corner of his eye while the latter makes it across the platform.

"Drey Fennel, Audra Gregory, Jeremy Gant," the principal continues.

He feels Veronica's left hand sliding dangerously closer to the inside of his thigh _again_. His body reacts as expected, despite the inconvenient timing. He tries to focus on the actual ceremony

"Lucy Haines, Mikhail Jordan, Tiffany Joy, Frederick Knight."

He watches his students with a heart so full it's bursting at the seams.

"Marie Lu, Karen Mason, Derrick Meyers, Phyllis Muller."

He feels her nuzzling closer, and he shifts to make room.

"Valentina Navarro, Peter Ong, Christopher Pearson."

The students receive their diplomas with varying degrees of joy, relief, and excitement. Stacy continues, and he tries to pay attention - despite the pinky finger inching closer towards his groin. She doesn't seem to slow,

He shifts too late, and the edge of her hand slides sensually from the base of the chair to the tip of his -

 _That's it._

"Save that for the bedroom," he whispers hoarsely, leaning closer to her ear.

She smiles and giggles - outright giggles.

"Ew!" Her phone, held out at arm's length, cries.

He feels eerily similar to the first time Keith walked in on them making out more than a decade ago. Veronica turns her phone over to face them.

"No thanks for interrupting, bro," Logan whispers into the imbedded microphone, unable to keep the mischief out of his voice.

"You keep this up, I'mma gonna impregnate Penelope in front of you," Wallace threatens, his athletic build reduced to a robotic silhouette on screen.

"Too bad she's already pregnant then," Logan volleys back, then remembers. "Is she still pregnant?"

"Not for long." Wallace's grin is apparent despite lousy webcam definition.

"Go back to her." It's Veronica's turn to whisper into the gadget. "I know she needs you."

Then she turns to give Logan such a longing, lovely look that he barely notices Wallace signing off. Lips smiling and heart brimming, he hugs her shoulder tighter. "Getting ready already? Don't worry, I got the hint."

She smiles brilliantly, her right hand wandering to cover her gently bulging abdomen. He places his hand over her hand, his forehead against her forehead. "You okay? No more complaints about Penelope?"

Her smiles falters just a little. Then she shrugs. "It's not her fault she got pregnant first."

"Right." He gauges her mood. Jealous Veronica is one ugly beast. "But we're thankful for ours, right?"

"Yeah." She beams back, and he _knows_ his heart has exploded into a million pieces.

They knew it the very first morning she asked for a plain butter bagel instead of toasted sesame - and it's been discovery after discovery ever since.

"Hey," he whispers with a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."

Right beneath them, crowds erupt into cheers at Stacy's declaration that the prolonged ceremony's over. Students embrace, parents beam, and teachers battle with mixed feelings.

But all he can hear is his wife's sweet voice saying, "I love you too."

* * *

Who knew everything gets so much more complicated when she's pregnant?

She walks carefully across the parking lot, avoiding any bumps, cracks, or uneven footing. She's relieved to see their car - a boring family van - only a little bit further away.

'Nothing flashy,' they'd both agreed back then.

 _And I still agree now._

She stifles a yawn, still fretting at her caffeine intake limit.

 _This better be the cutest baby in the whole wide world._

"He will be, you know?"

She looks up at his voice. "Huh?"

"He'll be fine - and handsome and wonderful." He pulls his arm around her, smiling warmly.

"What makes you say that?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounds more dubious than skeptical.

"I dunno, the worried look on your brow as your hand clutches your belly, maybe?" Still walking, he presses a kiss against her forehead. "The doctor said everything's okay, right?"

"Yeah."

 _But I still worry._

Smiling, he uses his free hand to swing open the car door. "Now, let's go. Your dad's not gonna want us to get there late."

"It's okay. No rush. I mean, Orlando and Drey aren't even his actual kids, you know? Wait till Almira." She rolls her eyes as she shoves herself on the passenger seat. " _That_ party would be bigger than an Asian wedding."

"Still jealous?"

"Sometimes?"

He displays an exaggerated pout. She can't help laughing. "Fine, fine. I won't be jealous, okay? My dad's protective of his kids - he's always been. It doesn't matter who the currently protected daughter happens to be."

"Yes." Logan agrees, pulling down his seat belt. "Besides, if he's this fussy about a child, what do you think he'd be like with a _grand_ -child? You'll want him out of your hair so badly before you know it."

Now she's sincerely chuckling. Feeling particularly blissful, she quips, "Hey, at least Wallace won't be around tonight to demand my attention. You get me _all_ to yourself."

"Right." He smiles, backing out of the parking lot. "But that also means we have no one to convince that we conceived in one of those napping pods."

"Ha!" That one always gets her laughing. "I've yet to convince Mac, but Wallace was _so_ easy to gross out."

"Hey, sex with me is _never_ gross."

"Only to a stepbrother's ears."

"Or a nephew's."

She laughs again - seems like she always is these days. "Now that he's off to Stanford with Sheila, I doubt Trina would be around much."

"We'll keep a guest room."

"Of course." She smiles, hand running gently over her belly. "At least we'll have the house to ourselves."

"Not for long." His hand flies over hers, and she feels her heart brimming with love.

"Yeah." She looks at him, smiling. A stray thought occurs. "You know, there really is something about teaching journalism. All the teachers get knocked up!"

The laughter he returns is genuine, open, and happy. She smiles for the entire drive to her dad's.

And if the after-party that night in their bedroom is hotter than the party at Keith's, nobody's telling - except, maybe, just to mess with Wallace.

* * *

 _A/N: A shout out to my husband, who romanced and married me when he was aged 34 - and right after I'd come out of a young, immature, and dysfunctional college relationship. Sometimes, love takes the long way to arrive - but it's glorious when it does._

 _Big hug to anyone who noted the Cyrano de Bergerac content. You are my kindred spirits. A TON of love to irma66, who's been with this story from its infancy. Thank you, dear readers, for enjoying this story! I hope you leave a review!_


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